Love Is Forever
by Rac4hel414
Summary: Two opposites. One thing in common: broken hearts. 'Death ends a life, but it does not end a relationship, which struggles on in the survivor’s mind towards some resolution which it may never find.' -Robert Anderson
1. Trailer

**A/N: I thought of this idea when I saw the trailer 'Love Happens'. It's kind of mixed with the character of Sa5m from 'Bandslam', too. Ummm...You guys know me. I start stories and never finish them. I apologise all the time so please don't moan at me. But, would you like me to delete my discontinued ones?**

**Please tell me what you think? I've just started sixth form (a junior, in America) so I don't know when I'll start the prologue.  
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Love is Forever

_Narrator_

Actions

**Speech**

_Sometimes you love someone so much, you'll give up everything for them._

Shows Gabriella screwing up an application to Stanford University

**Gabriella: Maybe it just wasn't meant to be**

_Sometimes you love someone so much, you can't imagine your life without them._

Shows Troy stood with a basketball, staring blankly at the hoop. He throws it towards the fence and falls back onto the grass.

**Troy: I need you back, Lex**

_And sometimes you become a social reject for them._

Shows Gabriella sitting alone in the cafeteria, dressed in black and reading a book. She touches the gold cross hanging from her neck and sighs.

_But, when that person inspires you…_

Shows Troy signing a book

**Lucille: You're helping people**

**Troy: I guess, Mom**

_Two people who only have one thing in common…_

**Gabriella: It's breaking my heart, Dad**

**Greg **Wraps his arms around her**: I know, mi hija**

_Meet_

Shows a room full of people in dresses and tuxes, wearing masks. Gabriella is sat at the edge of the dance floor, reading.

**Troy **Sits next to Gabriella**: Hi**

**Gabriella (speaking in monotone): Hi**

_Troy wants to break through the walls she's built_

**Troy: I wish you'd tell me what's wrong**

**Gabriella (speaking in monotone): I wish I didn't have to.**

_When Gabriella finally allows him inside…_

**Troy **Slowly swaying with Gabriella on the bed of his truck**: I bet you never thought you'd do this**

**Gabriella: No. I didn't.**

_He did the worst thing he could…_

Shows Gabriella waiting on a bench outside of a pizza restaurant. Flashes to Troy and Gabriella talking.

**Gabriella (speaking in monotone): You let me fall in love with you…And you're not even over your wife dying.**

**Troy **Looks to the floor**: I'm sorry**

Gabriella kisses his cheek and walks away

_From the author of 'Out of This World', comes a story of pain_

Shows Gabriella crying into Troy's chest

**Troy: Things get better. They always do**

_Fear_

Shows Jack having coffee with Troy

**Jack: You have to give yourself permission to have a life**

**Troy: I know**

_Risks_

Shows Troy rushing away from the coffee with Jack and running towards Gabriella's house.

**Troy: If you don't apply for college now, how will you get money in the future?**

**Gabriella: I don't know. But, we can't afford it and I'm not putting any possibility of her living in jeopardy**

_Forgiveness_

Shows Gabriella hugging Maria

**Maria: You never have to apologise to me**

_Love_

Shows Troy running into the bookstore, shocking Gabriella

**Troy: I know you can live without me but I can't live without you**

_Starring Zac Efron and Vanessa Hudgens_

_Coming to a computer screen near you soon_


	2. Chapter 1: Gabriella

**A/N: I really hope you like it. :)**

**Don't own HSM x

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Chapter 1

_Gabriella_

_**The nice thing about living in a small town is that when you don't know what you're doing, someone else does**_

Living in Albuquerque has its advantages: there's never any traffic jams, it's generally quiet, and drama is kept to a bare minimum. However, common sense dictates that there are also disadvantages: jobs are few and far between, you have to drive to Glenwood or Santa Fe for any worthwhile shopping, and secrets are hard to keep. I'd always loved Albuquerque. I don't know if it was because my parents were from here or if it was because we were just happy, I don't know. But, that didn't mean I didn't want to leave. If I'm honest, I'd planned to leave as soon as I threw my red graduation cap into the air. But, I'm not leaving now.

I changed my plans five years ago, a year before I started East High. In fact, I didn't just change my plans. I changed my life. The reason wasn't something I regretted, but still something I would change. Maybe I didn't change my life all that much. I'd always been studious and I'd never been popular in school. But, I suppose my motivation changed. Before, all I pictured was a law degree in my hand. That was why I studied. But, things changed and, like I said, so did my reasons.

I wasn't special or talented. I wasn't bad or a criminal. I was a regular senior from Albuquerque. Okay, I admit I was kind of smarter than the other kids: I corrected everyone on everything and maybe that was why I'd never really had friends; it became annoying. I didn't do it consciously, I just did.

Life is a curious thing, isn't it? You spend the first eighteen years of your life forced to go to school. Then, you could go to college, so let's say that's four more years in education. Then, you find a job, hopefully the one you've been dreaming of, so you can have money to have a house and food and clothes and hopefully a few luxuries, too. And all of that time, people are telling you to live your life to the fullest. When do we have time to do that? And, ultimately, no matter how you live your life, you'll die anyway.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not suicidal. I'm just stating a fact. I could become a world famous lawyer, become rich and have a family. But, in seventy, eighty years, I'll be dead. It makes you wonder if there's any point to anything.

I was walking home from school. I had missed the bus because some jocks had knocked me over and all of my books had been thrown across the hallway. I could've driven to and from school…if I could afford a car. I had my licence. I got it three months after my sixteenth birthday. But, I didn't have the money for the cheapest of cars. All I wanted was an old truck that meant I didn't have to ride the bus. But, as I found out a year before I started East High, life isn't fair. In fact, if I'm honest, I liked walking home. It was peaceful, quite and gave me a chance to think.

I looked down at my feet and sighed. I'd changed so much. I saw my black converse high-top sneakers move rhythmically over the concrete, heading towards my house. I remember I time I would've worn high heels. I would've worn dresses and pink clothes and mini skirts. Now, I wear black jeans, black tops and lots of skulls and crossbones. On the off chance I wear black denim skirts, I wear black tights underneath. When I wear pink, it's dark pink in a pattern that incorporates black in some way.

Like I said: things change.

I approached my house, a small, homely building with fading red brickwork, a beautiful wooden porch with a bench swing and a small garden in front of it. It wasn't much. But, it was home. It's all I've ever known; the only place I've ever lived. The back yard was bigger than the front and when I was growing up, I was convinced it stretched for miles and miles. At the far end was a creek with a small wood on the opposite side where Greg had installed a hammock between two trees just for me.

I saw Greg's car in the driveway and sighed. Recently, his job as a teacher at a local kindergarten was becoming non-existent. His shift must've been cut short because I knew he'd originally been until four. Although he had three masters' degrees and one doctorate degree and served in the army for ten years before he met Maria, no one wanted to employ him. The kindergarten, in my opinion, was becoming redundant and, quite frankly, they didn't want a man to watch the kids. Although his degrees were in geology, philosophy, psychology and medical science, he had chosen to work with kids. I had nothing against that. But employers did. He said that things were fine. He said we still had money. But I'm not stupid or a little kid that has to be kept in the dark.

I knew money was running out.

We still had the bookstore. When my parents first got married, they opened up a small second-hand bookstore that was opposite out house. The bookstore relied, mostly, on donations from locals and we'd always had a good response. But, even that wasn't enough. When you sell second-hand products, you can't ask full price for it. And, what's the point in accepting donations when hardly anybody buys them. We have one regular who visits every Saturday as soon as it opens at nine in the morning. An African-American girl a couple of years older than me always searches the shelves for any books that she hasn't already read. She sometimes brings her friend who is a bit shyer and timid than she is but she only sees if there are any books about music or musicians. I soon found out that the regular girl was called Taylor and her friend was Kelsi. However, even with Taylor's very kind and regular business, the bookstore couldn't stay open forever with the way things were going.

I jumped over the front garden gate and started up the garden path that bisected the garden. The driveway was to the right, in front of the garage which was attached to the house. My eyes darted to the lounge window. It was framed by the curtains which Maria had tied back to create the shape of an 'R' on the left side and was mirrored on the right. The centre was covered by a net curtain with a floral pattern. It looked very appealing and homely. It always had. Maria was very house proud and all about making people feel welcome. It was when I thought about things like that that I felt a snake curl and coil inside of my throat, effectively making me stop from stepping through the door.

I adjusted my bag on my shoulder and licked my lips, looking down on the welcome mat that was placed just in front of my feet. My black curls were framing my vision and I eventually crept closer to the window, trying to peek through the net. When I left for school that morning, Maria had been asleep and I hadn't heard from her. I saw her silhouette sitting at the piano at the far end of the lounge. Of course my mother would be playing the piano.

"Oh, Gabriella, Dear," an elderly voice called.

I jumped at the sudden shatter of my thoughts. I turned and saw our neighbour, Mrs Wilson, an elderly woman who had lived in the house next to ours for more than thirty years. After her husband passed away ten years ago, she had become a close friend of our family. However, in latter years, we'd become distanced from each other. I knew that part of the reason was that Greg, Maria and I were so busy. I knew the other part was that, in the circumstances, she was simply afraid to be around our house.

I gave her a tiny wave. "Hi Mrs Wilson," I replied, trying to add as much intonation to my usual monotone voice as possible.

Mrs Wilson hobbled closer to the garden border. "I was curious: How is your mother?"

I felt the smile immediately fall from my face. "She's fine. We're planning to spend the day in Glenwood together with my dad on Sunday."

Mrs Wilson nodded. "And yourself?"

I licked my lips and nodded slowly. "I'm fine."

"Gabriella," she said sternly.

"I'm fine," I protested. I quickly composed myself and I was soon speaking in my usual monotone again. "I must go." I walked towards the front door and pushed it open, welcoming the scent of polish. Maria had cleaned today. That was a good sign. I shut the door quietly behind me, not wanting to disturb her music. I walked quietly into the lounge and set my bag on the couch. I didn't recognise the song which was weird considering I knew every song Maria played right down to the last note. I walked up behind her and wrapped my arms around her from behind, noticing, like I always did, that she was thinner than she was. "Hola Mama."

"Hola. How are you? Don't you dare say 'fine'. The whole street heard your conversation with Mrs Wilson," Maria warned me, not even turning to me.

"I'm sorry," I murmured. "I'm worried."

Maria stopped playing and turned to me. She held my hands. "Mi hija, it's going to happen whether we like it or not."

"That would be a not," I muttered like a small child who couldn't get her own way.

"I know," she whispered. "But, you'll have your father."

I rolled my eyes. "I can't talk to him about guys…When it happens."

Maria smiled. "Better keep the guys to a minimum."

I smiled and kissed her forehead. "How are you, Mama?"

"I'm good. I cleaned the house today and when your father came back from work, we went to the park and then we came back so your father could take over from Macey. Not that it would make much of a difference," she added quietly.

Macey worked at the store during the day when I was at school and Greg was, usually, at work. I kissed her forehead again. "I'll go and help him out. Dinner at five?"

She nodded and turned back to the piano. "Yeah."

I let go of her and picked up my bag, making my way out of out house and across the street to the store. I pushed the door open and greeted the smells of aging paper, ink and coffee. The shop was fairly large but it appeared small because of the amount of bookshelves Greg had somehow managed to cram inside the four walls. It was brightly lit, illuminating book upon book upon book. With brightly painted walls and the bookcases painted in colourful patterns, it looked friendly, welcoming and painted a good picture for reading.

I saw Greg sat with glasses perched on his nose behind the counter set by the right wall. There was computer, till, calculator and various papers in front of him. I sighed. Greg was good at many things but doing accounts wasn't one of them. He could fix a DVD player but not settle the accounts of the store. I walked over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "You want me to talk over, Daddy?"

He sighed and set his pencil down. "That would be a good idea."

I peered at the screen of the calculator. "How did you get minus three million?"

He shrugged. "I don't know!"

I rolled my eyes. "Budge up."

He stood up and allowed me to sit behind the counter. "Did you see your mom?"

I nodded silently. "Yeah," I whispered.

"Gabi," he murmured.

"I'm doing the accounts," I muttered in my regular monotone. I tried desperately not to speak in monotone around my parents, especially Maria, but sometimes I lapse back into a monotone without my conscious consent.

Greg sighed. I knew it infuriated him. I didn't mean to. It happened by itself when things started to go wrong in my life and ever since then, it was only my parents that I managed to use intonation with. It annoyed my teachers but fuck them. Apologies for cussing. But, the thing is, I honestly don't mean to. I just…do.

"Why don't you keep Mama company?" I mumbled.

Greg took his glasses off and tucked them safely into the breast pocket of his shirt. "Fine, whatever. If you want to be that way, continue."

I heard the door slam behind him and winced. I sat up straight and ran a hand through my mass of black curls. You see, when I was growing up, Greg and Maria were two of my best friends. I told them everything and, possibly because of this, they know the reason behind everything I do, even when I don't. My monotone, for instance. I had no clue why it happened until Greg talked to me and 'subtly' mentioned that I spoke in monotone to keep conversation to a minimum and spoke in monotone around my parents because I wanted to keep the conversation steered well away from Maria. He hadn't told Maria his theory but you didn't have to be a rocket scientist to work out that she had already figured it out.

I turned back to the papers in front of me, picking up Greg's discarded pencil. I began working steadily through the accounts, knowing that the sooner the accounts were over, the sooner I could start my homework and the sooner I could shut the store. When I eventually got through them all and checked them over, I was disappointed. Although we weren't in any debt, which was a miracle in itself, we didn't have the income we needed. My parents kept saying that I should get paid for the amount of time I work in the store so I could have some money for college tuition.

But I declined.

That meant that the only money I had was my allowance I got each Saturday morning at nine AM, regular as clockwork. And, even though I've been saving for four years, it would never cover Stanford's tuition. Besides, it's not like I'm going to college. I reached down for my bag and brought out a folder. It was black and I had used white paint to write _Ella_ on the front and a skull and crossbones on the back. I opened it up and flipped through the pages and pages of notes to the back where a large white envelope was safely in a plastic wallet. I took the envelope out and set it in front of me. I fingered the sticker on the front with my address on it. My fingers moved up to the top right corner where the return address was printed.

Stanford.

I opened the envelope and took out the sheets of paper. Inside was a prospectus and an application form. Applications were supposed to be sent off a month ago. I screwed it up and dropped it into the small trash can by my feet. "I guess it just wasn't meant to be," I whispered.

I felt my eyes water but didn't cry. I never cried. Not over books or movies…especially not over real life. The last time I cried over real life was just over five years ago. Since then, emotion has simply been overrated for me.

Once I'd finished my math and science homework, I saw it was time to shut the store so I gathered my stuff and shut the store. When I entered the house I couldn't help but smile. Maria was sat at the kitchen table while Greg was cooking dinner. I inhaled deeply and smelt ravioli. I dropped my bag to the floor and entered the kitchen. "I shut the store for you, Daddy. Yes, I locked the cash register."

He grinned. "That's my girl."

I giggled. "Anything I can help with?"

"You could get some plates and cutlery. This is almost done," Greg said softly.

I nodded and gathered all of the plates and cutlery. I got three glasses and the carton of milk. I placed everything on the table and poured milk into each glass. I sat down as Greg placed a large bowl of steaming ravioli in the centre. "This smells great, Daddy."

He ladled some onto each plate and sat down with us. "Thank you, mi hija."

"Oh, Gabi, sweetie," Maria started, "Next Saturday, we're going to a masked ball."

I looked at her. "Why?"

"Well, it's at the community centre downtown. It's to raise money to stop them building a mall here," she explained.

"Okay…" I said slowly.

"That's why we're going to Glenwood to get clothes. Your father is getting a new suit, I'm getting a new dress and yes, you need a dress, too," she said sternly.

I sighed. I knew I wouldn't get out of it. "Fine. Black."

I'm going to a ball. Fantastic.


	3. Chapter 2: Troy

**A/N: Well, I'm quite enjoying sixth form :) My social life is kind of...ugh but oh well!!!**

**Don't own HSM x

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Chapter 2

_Troy_

_**A human life is a story told by God**_

I knew he'd be waiting. He always was. I knew that the past two years had been confusing for him. First, I wouldn't come out of my room, then, I wrote a book, and then I was barely in Albuquerque anymore because it got published. But, through it all, he was always there. He was the only one who had never doubted on me for one second. Don't get me wrong, my friends and family supported me throughout everything. But, I know that each of them had an inkling of doubt of my mental health, career, sanity probably so small that it wasn't a conscious worry. But it was there.

I'd promised him, as soon as I found out I'd be travelling for my book, that I'd take him to New York. I still had to fulfil it. I felt like a bad brother. Nothing was fair on him. I knew he just wanted his big brother back but I didn't know where he was. The simple answer was that he was walking towards the luggage carousel in Albuquerque airport. But, he wasn't. He died a long time ago with his wife. I'd like to say I was coping with her death…but I never was. The only way I was living was because my life has been so busy, so on the go, since my book was published that I haven't had time to be depressed…no matter how much I want to.

But, that doesn't mean I regret writing the book. My mom, Lucille, says that I help people all of the time which is very rewarding. I just don't want it to exist because of the reasons I wrote it. People from all over the world bought my book and read it, but they'll never know what thoughts were flowing through my head when I wrote every sentence and word.

I picked up a large black pull-along and set it on the ground beside me, waiting for my sports bag. I wanted to go back to a time when I wasn't rich or special or famous. I wanted to go back to my freshman year when I was at the bottom of the food chain. Of course, I made the junior varsity basketball team and took East High to the championships. The following year, I was the first sophomore in East High history to make the varsity team and be voted captain. After that, I was pretty much the most popular guy in the school. But, my most memorable year was my freshman year. Because it was the year when I first met Alexandria Baudelaire.

As soon as I saw the red and white sports bag, I slung it over my shoulder and yanked the handle of my suitcase up, weaving my way through the crowd. I tried desperately not to draw attention to myself and keep a look out for Jack, Lucille and David at the same time. It proved to be harder than I originally thought when a woman nervously asked me for an autograph. It didn't bother me and I was more than willing to give it to her, I just wanted to see my family. Once she was too overwhelmed at having my autograph, I managed to excuse myself and scan the crowds.

Just when I was about to give up and pull out my cell phone, I heard the familiar voice of Lucille. I turned around and saw Jack and Lucille waving frantically and David was staring at the ground. I dragged my suitcase behind me and managed to stop just before I crashed into my family.

"Mommy!" I exclaimed as I embraced her tightly. Even though most adults would be embarrassed to call their mothers 'mommy', I wasn't. I still wanted and needed her to be there and she'd done so much for me.

She patted my back and pulled back to take in my appearance. She patted my stomach. "You're eating well, I see."

I shrugged sheepishly. "Travelling the world. I've got to experience the different cultures, right?"

"Well, all I see is that my oldest son has been working out!" Jack appraised.

I flexed my muscles. "What do you think?"

"I think we need some one-on-one." He grinned and bumped his fist against mine.

I crouched down to David's height. "Hey, Davey," I whispered. "How have you been?"

He continued to stare at the floor. "Are you back?"

I nodded. "I'm back."

"For good?" I saw that, just for a second, his eyes flickered up to mine.

"For a couple of weeks," I whispered, feeling guilt wash over me. What I would give to finally keep a promise I made.

"Is that when we're going to New York?" he asked innocently.

"Davey, buddy, you've got to go to school," I said softly.

He nodded, suddenly understanding what I was saying. "I get it."

"We'll go," I promised. I sighed. "I'm sorry."

He nodded and turned to Lucille, keeping his head bowed. "Can I have my chess?"

Lucille complied and dug into her purse to bring out an electronic chess set. "There you go, honey."

I watched sadly as David concentrated on the console in his hands. "Can we go home, please? I want to see Kels."

* * *

I'll be honest. The primary for me coming back home is because of a charity masked ball Albuquerque is having in order to make money to stop the council building a mall. I've got my tux and mask and the plan was that if I'm there, more money will go in through selling books and autographs. I was donating generously, myself, of course. Not for publicity or for people to think I'm charitable. I mean, I am, but for me, my number one charity is David. But, Albuquerque is my hometown and I'm not going to let them turn it into some city lookalike where girls come just to shop!

The second reason was to see my family. If it possible, I'd take them with me, wherever I went. But, Jack and Lucille wanted to work and David had school. I'd offer for him to be home schooled but he needed to be in public school. He needed to be with other kids his own age. He needed friends. Maybe that was a good reason for me being gone for so long. It encouraged him to rely on others more than me. Because, the last year had proved that I wasn't someone to depend on.

My friends were still in Albuquerque. It seemed impossible, if I'm honest. I wasn't the only one who made it big-time. But, I was the only one who made it big-time and had to leave. They were all in love married, some even had kids. I was the only one who had to be deprived of that. I hated to say this because I knew Lexi wouldn't want me to. But, it's not fair, it never had been.

What can you possibly say about a nineteen year old girl who died? That she was beautiful. She was smart. She was poor. She loved DeBussy, Mozart, Cliff Richard…and me. I haven't a clue why. But she did. She came into my world in a flourish of beauty…and then she went. She was just a normal woman. The only thing that made her more special than any other girl in the world was that she loved me and I loved her. I'm sorry, I _love_ her. I always will.

They say loss gets easier with time. It doesn't. Even now, with wealth and fame and seeing the world, I feel my heart break when I think back to how things were and what they could've been. I know I shouldn't play the 'what if' game but I can't help it. Curiosity gets the better of me.

My book tells my story. In order to do that, I have to tell you hers. But, furthermore, to tell Lexi's story, I need to talk about drunks. It seemed ironic in hindsight. Lexi was a woman who had only ever had one glass of champagne in her entire life and that was at our wedding. And how did she die? She was killed by a drunk driver.

And he lived.

Of course, he was sentenced to jail for driving while intoxicated and manslaughter. If he ever sets foot in Albuquerque once he's released, I'll kill him. It's just not fair. Why did she have to work late that night at hospital? Why did some idiot choose to drink and drive? Why was it her car that he hit? The answers were simple: she worked late that night because she was too freaking nice and covered someone's shift, the idiot chose to drink and drive because he wanted to wreck my life, it was her car he hit because it was the darkest day of my life.

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As soon as I entered the house, I knew my friends were there. I dumped my suitcases at the bottom of the stairs and took my time taking my jacket off. I hung it on a hook and sighed. My friends were possibly the best in the universe. Since Lexi died, they never once asked anything of me. They let me be. They'll never know how much that means to me.

I walked slowly into the lounge and forced a small smile at all of my friends. None of their kids were present and it didn't take a rocket scientist to work out that they didn't want their kids seeing their Uncle Troy in tears. My eyes sought out the petite, auburn haired girl sitting next to her boyfriend, Jason. "Kels," I whispered.

She immediately stood up and rushed over to hug me. "I'm here, Troy."

I closed my eyes, savouring the feeling of her arms around me. "Can I talk to you?" Someone might've thought I was being rude to my other friends. But, they didn't. They never thought I was rude. They understood that Kelsi was more special to me than they ever would be.

She nodded and took my hand. "Of course." We went outside onto the back decking and sat down on the wooden bench that was situated there. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I whispered. "Do you ever…"

"Do I ever what?" she asked patiently.

I swallowed hard. "Do you ever wish your way back to kindergarten?"

She smiled nostalgically. "You mean where you only worried about pudding and crayons. Heck yeah. I mean, now I've got to worry about my job, my mortgage…Jase. That's enough trouble to last a lifetime." She nudged my shoulder. "But, I know it's heaven compared to true."

I nodded slowly. "I guess. How have you been?"

"Good. Yeah, there's some real talent at East High. The students sometimes remind me of us. There's this one girl who plays in the music room all through lunch and I assume they're free periods, otherwise she's skipping classes. But, whenever I go in, she stops playing and rushes out. It's quite weird. She looks like some kind of goth-emo chick," she replied.

I grinned. Kelsi, being the super genius musician she is, got accepted to Juilliard a year early. She got her degree as a teacher and returned to East High. It was her first year teaching there. She's also the composer of the musicals performed at the community theatre, too. She hadn't made it big like we'd all expected. But, she was happy. She didn't want fame and fortune. She wanted to teach others how to bring music into the world.

"Is she good?" I asked.

Kelsi nodded frantically. "Hell yeah! Some of the compositions she plays…It's amazing she hasn't been recognised by the school."

I shrugged. "Does she take music?"

Kelsi sighed. "No. I've tried so hard to open up a conversation to try to find out who she is. But, whenever I entre the music room when she's in there, she flees like the piano has just scolded her."

I frowned. "She sounds weird."

"When are you leaving?" she whispered.

"A couple of weeks. I've got some seminars up in Washington," I explained.

"How long do they last?" Kelsi asked, bowing her head. I knew, just like she did, that she wasn't asking out of interest. She wanted to know when to prepare herself for my departure.

I sighed. "I don't know."

She nodded slowly. "Okay."

"You know I'll call you," I murmured.

"Do you know the hardest part?" she asked and I knew she was on the verge of crying. "I know I can't help you when you're off on one of your tours."

I frowned. "What do you want me to do? Without this book and my lectures, I have no future. I dropped out of college when Lex died. I'm a failure, okay. Just say it, will you? I know you're thinking it!"

Kelsi sighed. "Troy," she whispered, "nobody thinks that." She paused and then kissed my cheek. "I'll leave you alone."

I watched her go and Lucille came out a second later. "Hi, Mom," I whispered.

She sat next to me. "You want to talk?"

I felt tears well in my eyes. "I miss her."

Lucille nodded and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. "I know you do and you should. You were married, you have a right to miss her."

"Will you be honest with me?" I asked, knowing that she would be the one person who would tell me the truth, no matter how it would affect my emotions.

As predicted, she nodded. "I wouldn't lie to either of my sons."

I looked her in the eyes. "Do you think I'm missing her too much?"

If I was expecting any answer, it wasn't the one she gave. "No. Troy, if your father passed away now, I don't know what I'd do. And we've been married for twenty five years." She paused and sighed softly. "It's nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, I'm proud of you. If you'd have moved on too fast, I would've grounded you for so long."

"Would you miss Dad?" I murmured.

She smiled and kissed my hair. "I miss him whenever we're apart. If…If he died, the only things that would keep me going would be you and David."

I rested my head on her shoulder. "It's not fair on him. I feel horrible whenever he asks about New York."

She breathed out deeply. "Sometimes I wish I could turn back time to see you happy one last time."

"I'm happy," I muttered but, even as I said it, I knew I had just lied to my own mother.

"I wish you wouldn't lie to me," she whispered and kissed my hair.

"Me too." I closed my eyes, letting my mind drift back to when life was simpler, when I was happy.

"You know you help people, right?" Lucille asked.

I sat up and sighed. "I guess, Mom."

"But, I wish you'd have the strength to ask someone to help you," she said and I hear the pleading tone in her voice. She kissed my forehead and stood up and left me alone.

I looked out over the backyard. It was very big, I'd always considered myself lucky for living with one this size. It was split into two sections. The section closest to the house was a full size basketball court and the other part was how a yard should look: a proper garden. My mother took pride in the garden and tented to it well.

I spied a basketball and leapt to my feet, craving the sport that had once been my life. I wondered if I was still as talented as I once was. Two years without it had to have ruined my talent, right? I picked the ball up and dribbled it up to the net and shot a basket, watching as it bounced off of the rim. As I walked slowly to pick the basketball up, I speculated whether it had more to do with Lexi dying than my lack of practice. I picked the ball up and stood facing the hoop. I suddenly threw it angrily towards the far fence and fell backwards onto the grass. I ran my hands over my face.

"I need you back, Lex," I whispered as tears leaked from my eyes.

Can you help me? What do you live for when the reason you'd been living died in a car collision?


	4. Chapter 3: Gabriella

**A/N: This is the next chapter. Ummm...I'm going to be starting a new story with my best friend in the entire world! It was originally called 'The Perfect Man' but now it's called 'Meet Me at Midnight'**

**Don't own HSM x

* * *

**

Chapter 3

_Gabriella_

_**We sometimes encounter people, even perfect strangers, who begin to interest us at first sight, somehow suddenly, all at once, before a word has been spoken**_

I pulled the brush through Maria's black hair as I began styling it into a stylish bun. I placed the brush down and started twisting the once thick curls into the bun and pinning it in place. I took my hands away from my masterpiece and looked down at my hands, feeling tears prick my eyes at the sight in front of me. I could've broken down and had Maria comfort me but I didn't. I held it in. I kissed her cheek and excused myself to give me time to get ready, too. I hurried down the hall to my bedroom and almost fell inside, kicking the door shut behind me. I fell onto my bed and clutched my mother's hair to my chest. Her chemotherapy had stopped a year ago...but she was still losing her hair. It was just like mine was: black, silky, curly and thick. It was hard to tame but when I managed it, it looked beautiful.

I stared at the strands of hair in my hands. It was like confirmation of the truth I was terrified to say aloud. I wasn't an idiot, I knew it would happen sooner or later, but I didn't want it to. I wanted her to stay with me. Life is full of choices that I don't know how to tell the good ones from the bad. I wanted someone to talk to about clothes and gossip about celebrities. I just...I wanted her to live.

I suppose it's a logical thing to want your own mother to live. But, when it's staring you in the face, when you've seen your mother go through so much pain, you become selfish and convince yourself that if God had to choose between all of the mothers in the world, yours should be the one He'd save. But, everything has its time everything dies. I guess Maria's time was cut short.

I love God and have faith in him. I trust him and believe in him – in his existence and his capability to live up to my expectations. But, how far can that get you? Faith? Why my mother? Why her? Why now? Trust? I trust that he's got bigger plans for her. But, why should I have to do that? I should just be able to trust that she'll be safe. I wish I could understand...but I don't.

There was a knock on my bedroom door and I sat up, dropping Maria's hair onto my bed. I wiped my cheeks and rushed over my closet to take out the black ball gown I had picked out. "Come in," I called. My gaze fell back onto the dress that I had just hung up on the door of my closet. It had fairly wide straps with a v-neck. It hugged my torso and then flared down to my feet. It had black sequins embroidered diagonally across my torso and then in little swirls on the bottom. I had picked out a pair of flat, black leather shoes. Maria had tried to persuade me to have stilettos but I remained strong.

The door to my bedroom opened and Greg stepped inside, shutting it gently behind him. He came and stood next to me. "This is wrong."

"Huh?" I turned to him, raising an eyebrow.

"My baby girl shouldn't be old enough to wear this," he murmured as hi kissed my head.

I curled some of my hair behind my ear and sighed. "But, I am. I don't even know why I'm going. I mean, I don't want a mall here but...I don't want to go. I just want to read."

Greg dropped his shoulders. "Fine, take your book."

I flung my arms around his neck. "Thank you so much. You're the greatest Dad in America."

"Yeah, yeah," he dismissed. "What's that?"

I let go of him and turned to see what had caught his attention. The hair. I finally let a tear drip down my cheek. "It's breaking my heart, Dad."

He pulled me into a hug and kissed my head. "I know, mi hija."

* * *

I quickly departed from my parents, moving quickly to a quiet corner of the large hall. I sat down and set my purse on the chair next to me. I adjusted the black and silver mask that was covering my eyes and then took my book out of my purse. I opened it at the page where my bookmark was and glanced up where Maria and Greg were talking to other people. Once I was satisfied that Maria was enjoying herself, I began reading. Some people would find it odd. I was voluntarily reading _The Scarlet Letter_. But, I enjoyed it.

Someone sat next to me. A man judging by the tux. A rich man, judging from the expensive shoes. I didn't care. I didn't want to be here, I wanted to read. I don't know why, out of all the people gathered in Albuquerque community centre, he wanted to sit next to me, the loner who only wanted to read.

"Hi," he said cheerfully.

I sighed without lifting my head. "Hi."

"Why aren't you dancing?" he asked conversationally.

"I could ask you the same thing," I muttered, using my usual monotone.

"I'm not dancing because I wanted to know why you weren't dancing," he replied.

"I don't want to," I said simply.

"Oh," he muttered.

"Why not?" he asked.

I lifted my head. "What do you want?"

He shrugged. "I just wanted to talk to you." Now I could see him, I realised he was sort of good looking. The first thing I noticed were his eyes that were piercing blue and, despite his happy voice and bright smile, I saw a sadness in his orbs. I knew, better than most, that a smile is the best form of make-up. His chestnut hair was combed neatly and he had to keep brushing his bangs from his eyes.

I sighed. "Listen, I don't care who you are, where you come from or how rich you are, Preppy. I just want to read."

He frowned. "Two things: What makes you so sure I went to Prep school?"

"Did you?" I asked.

"No. I went to East High," he explained.

"The second question?"

"Why do you talk like that?" he asked.

"Like what?" I demanded.

He deepened his voice until he sounded like Darth Vader. "Like this."

"I just do," I muttered. "Now, I really do just want to read." I lowered my eyes to my book.

There was a moment of silence before his voice speared my attention again. "What are you reading?"

I slammed my book shut and threw it onto the chair next to me. "_The Scarlet Letter_. Next question?"

He cowered back slightly. "I was just going to say that you look beautiful."

I frowned. "Well, thank you."

"How old are you?"

"Shouldn't we start with names?" I asked dubiously.

"But, what's in a name? That which we call a rose would smell as sweet. You can tell me your name but I wouldn't learn anything about you," he murmured.

"You think that quoting _Romeo and Juliet_ will...woo me?" I asked in exasperation.

"Wow. Someone's a little irritable," he muttered.

I folded my arms. "Someone's a little annoying."

"So, why are you here?" he asked.

"My parents forced me," she mumbled.

"So you want a mall in Albuquerque?" he asked dubiously.

I shook my head and turned to face him. "Of course not. Why would I want them to ruin this beautiful place? My parents grew up here and I want my children to grow up, knowing why I love it so much. So...no, I don't want a mall in Albuquerque."

He suddenly stood up and offered his hand. "Come on."

"I told you I don't want to dance," I protested.

"Neither do I. I want to take you someplace," he said quietly.

"I don't know you," I exclaimed.

He smirked, his blue eyes glinting mischievously behind his black mask. "That's the point."

I slipped my book into my bag and then stood up, refusing to touch him. "Okay. Where are you taking me?"

"You'll see," he said, sending me another smirk. He took my hand, without my consent, I might add, and pulled me out of the main hall and towards a door at the end of the hall.

I snatched my hand out of his. "Let go of me. Did I give you permission?"

He stopped and turned to me. "What?"

"Did I say you could hold my hand?" I demanded.

He stepped back and frowned behind his mask. "Well, no but, I-"

"Assumed I'd fallen under your charm and wanted you to hold my hand, right? Listen, Preppy-" I said venomously.

"I didn't go to prep school," he exclaimed.

"I don't care. Listen, Preppy, I don't like anyone touching me without my permission. Got it?" I commanded.

He folded his arms. "Who are you?"

"I thought you didn't care what my name is?" I accused.

"I don't. But, you don't seem like every other girl in Albuquerque," he whispered.

I shrugged. "I'm not every other girl. Now, where are you taking me?"

He turned around and beckoned me with his hand. "Follow me. Don't worry, I won't let anything hurt you."

I rolled my eyes and reluctantly followed him a few feet behind. He pulled the door open and began ascending a flight of stairs. At the top of the stairs was a wondrous canopy with bright flowers and plants surrounding a wooden bench which overlooked the Albuquerque landscape. I dropped my bag to the floor and looked up at the night sky, immediately finding Venus, Gemini and Taurus. The full moon was large and bright, giving the whole scene a heavenly glow. The lack of light emanating from Albuquerque gave the stars more chance to shine. Beautiful.

"What do you think?" he asked, appearing beside me. He reached up to his neck and loosened his tie.

"Wow," I murmured quietly, still using my monotone.

"Even when I show you this place, you don't smile and still sound like Darth Vader. Who are you? A secret zombie?" he joked.

I shook my head and managed to crack a small smile as I sat down on the wooden bench. He sat next to me as I crossed one leg over the other. "You wouldn't understand."

"Try me," he mumbled.

I turned to him. "I'd rather not."

He shrugged. "I won't force you." He touched my leather boot with his shiny black shoe. "Nice boots."

"I don't do heels," I said simply.

He smiled in amusement. "Really?"

I nodded. "Yeah. My mom tried to force me but I refused. There aren't many things I refuse her of."

He was silent for a moment. "You..."

"I what?" I asked curiously.

"You really love her?" he asked.

I nodded. "More than anything." I wanted a chang in subject. "How did you know about this place?"

"I used to play on the community basketball team," he explained. "One day, I got here a bit early and got curious. I'd never been here before. I never found out it's purpose."

"Does it matter? You get enjoyment from it. That's what matters," I whispered. "I used to take ballet here," I admitted.

"Used to? When'd you quit?" he questioned.

A smiled tugged at my lips as I looked up at the stars. "I didn't quit. I got kicked out when I was nine."

"What did you do to get kicked out?" he asked excitedly.

"I hmmmmm..." I muttered, looking away in embarrassment.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" he asked, turning more to face me.

I sighed, turning to him. "You'll laugh," I mumbled.

"I won't," he murmured. He went to touch my arm but then stopped, returning his arm to the back of the bench.

I rolled my eyes. "Whatever. When I was nine, I did a pirouette and accidentally kicked a girl over, breaking her leg in the process."

He struggled to keep his mouth in a straight line.

I sighed and folded my arms. "Go ahead."

He suddenly burst out laughing and I even saw a few tears trickle over his toned cheeks. He calmed down and dried his cheeks. He caught his breath and grinned at me. "Wow. You did that?"

"I didn't do it on purpose," I muttered. "It was really humiliating, actually. I mean, I always knew I sucked but I was always the one was hurt, not other people."

He smiled slightly. "So, you can't do ballet?"

I shook my head slowly. "I can't do any form of dance. I just don't dance at all. I'm the least co-ordinated person you'll ever meet."

He raised his eyebrows. "I'd love to see you dance someday."

I shook my head violently. "No you wouldn't. Trust me." I smoothed a wrinkle in my dress. "So, enough about me. What's your story?"

"Not much to it," he replied, looking back to the sky.

"Well, what about you and basketball? Do you still play?" I asked, figuring we had to start somewhere.

He sighed, keeping his eyes locked onto the black backdrop and fairy lights that was the night sky. "No. I don't. It used to be all I thought about. I wanted to study it at college, USC, I wanted to be a Laker and everyone said I'd make it."

I stayed silent, giving him time. For some reason, one I couldn't pinpoint and this scared me, I wanted to know him. I wanted to talk to him. I wanted to know why he'd given up his career. I wanted...I wanted to dance with him. I wanted to meet him again. I...I shouldn't think like that. My life was too complicated. It wouldn't be fair on him.

It was better if I just disappeared.

"You think you have forever, don't you?" he asked.

"What?" I asked, not quite understanding his question.

He turned to me, his blue eyes now a pale grey. "Now, you think you have forever, don't you? To get your dream job, climb Mount Everest and find someone to spend the rest of your life with. But, you don't. Far from it. And sometimes when fate is feeling really cruel, it's cut even shorter."

I thought about Maria. I nodded. "I know."

He faltered. "You do?"

I nodded. "I'm not an idiot. No one can live forever." I stood up and walked over to the railing to look out over my quiet hometown. "But, you're right. You grow up thinking you've got time to mess around...but you don't. No one does."

He stood never to me. "Are you okay?"

"I'm always okay," I muttered. "There's no other option. I'm either okay...or my entire fragile life collapses. Understood?"

"Why is it fragile?" he asked softly.

I turned to him sharply, giving him a hard look. "Why do you care?"

He shrugged. "Do I need a reason?"

"You have no idea who I am, though," I muttered.

He nodded slowly. "It's more fun that way."

"I'm not so easygoing when it comes to trust. As far as I'm concerned, you have to earn it," I said sincerely before turning back to the landscape before us.

"Rightly so," he murmured. "It's hard to believe: If we don't raise enough money, this'll be gone."

"It's so sad. But, that's life. Everything goes if you give it enough time."

"Do you just think of ways to be miserable?" he asked.

I shook my head slowly. "Force of habit."

He suddenly turned me to face him.

"What did I say?" I demanded.

"I know who you are," he murmured.

"You don't know me," I protested.

"Yes, I do. I used to be you. I think I still am. You're lonely. But, you don't have to be." He kissed my cheek and then disappeared down the stairs, just leaving the blazing hot feeling of his lips on my skin in his wake.


	5. Chapter 4: Troy

Chapter 4

_Troy_

_**You **__**meet**__** people who forget you. You forget people you **__**meet**__**. But sometimes you **__**meet**__** those people you can't forget. Those are your 'friends'**_

It was the Monday after the masked ball and, for once, I'd stopped thinking about Lexi. I was thinking about _her_ instead. Whether that was a good thing, I don't know. I know it was rather annoying. Who was she? Why does she feel the way she does? Why is she hiding? Why is she lonely?

She'd looked so beautiful. With her raven hair in that complicated bun and her sleek black dress hugging her curves, she looked like an angel. And her eyes...Her chocolate eyes that had been partially hidden by her eyes had just astounded me. But, despite how gorgeous they were, there was something...off about them. Like she wasn't all there. She looked extremely sad and depressed. That meant that she was either very plain at showing her feelings or very good at hiding them. I think it's a mix of both.

She was different. I mean, I know I was wearing a mask and all but she still didn't know who I was. Maybe she did and just didn't recognise me. She didn't dance at all. Even the girls who wanted a mall in Albuquerque went just to dress in expensive ball gowns and try to seduce guys there. But, she didn't. She was content to sit in the corner and read _The Scarlet Letter_. Which girl liked books like that?

An intriguing one.

I'd spent the Sunday with David, helping him with homework, playing video games and playing chess, a game that I was hopeless at and he became proud of himself when he was had a flawless winning streak. It was nice and I know he thought so, too. However, there was that fault in our time together because of me leaving. However much I love David, I can't stay. Without the book and motivational lectures, I have no future.

I'd spent the Monday in Albuquerque cemetery, talking things through with Lexi. It sounds crazy and maybe stupid but I need to talk to her. She was the only one to be able to know something was wrong without me saying a word and be able to finish my sentences. I still needed that and she always replied in my mind. I still heard her voice.

I felt somewhat guilty. With the passing of time, the only way I saw her beauty was through pictures and home videos. I was forgetting her and it broke my heart. It made me feel rude, almost unfaithful. But those were the cruel tricks of time. The world kept spinning, clocks kept ticking and time marched on. Although I'd gotten over her death, I hadn't moved on. I have nothing to move on to.

Maybe, possibly, I could move onto _the girl_. Not romantically, just as friends. But, seriously, even in a town as small as Albuquerque, what were the chances of me finding her? I doubt she was exactly the kind of girl who went to the park to hang out. I had no clue where to look for her.

Why was I so stupid to say that names weren't important? Of course they were bloody important, her name would've helped me find her. Not that I wanted to stalk her, of course. I wanted to help her. She was on the verge of mentally collapsing if she didn't talk to someone soon.

I dawdled aimlessly down the sidewalk, heading towards the tiny bookstore I'd past probably a million times in my life but never once stepped into. I needed something to take my attention away from _her_ and I figured, as my basketball skills were non-existence, I'd buy a book. What's the worst that could happen?

I pushed the door open and was greeted by a colourful sight. It looked homely and friendly and I knew I'd find something here. I looked over to the front counter as I shut the door and saw a young girl sat there, her chin resting in her palm as she chewed absently on her pencil, her eyes transfixed on the papers and book spread open in front of her. Her black curls cascaded over her shoulders and she was dressed in a black long sleeved t-shirt with a small skull and crossbones on her left breast.

She didn't even glance up at me.

I walked over to her and smiled brightly. "Hello," I greeted politely.

"Hi," she murmured lowly, still not glancing at me. Something seemed familiar.

"I'm looking for a book," I continued.

"You came to the right place," she muttered in a monotone.

I narrowed my eyes. _No..._ "What are you doing?"

"Homework," she replied.

"For what class?" I asked slyly.

She suddenly lifted her head, the familiar mocha eyes blazing with anger. "Listen, Preppy, I don't care who you are, where you came from or how rich you are. Choose a book and get out of here."

"Ha!" I yelled out victoriously. I grinned and leaned closer to her. "What makes you so sure I went to prep school?"

She instantly paled, leaning back slightly. "Not possible," she whispered.

I winked. "Nothing's impossible."

"You of all people were the guy at the ball? Why did it have to be you? Oh, I almost forgot," she paused and set her pencil down. She slammed her textbook shut and picked it up. She held it back and it collided with my arm.

"Ow!" I yelled, rubbing my arm. "What the hell was that for?"

"You kissed me without my permission," she exclaimed, "said I was lonely and then disappeared. That's what that was for." She dropped her textbook onto the counter and sighed. "You still want a book?"

"Preferably," I whispered. "Listen, I'm sorry."

She regarded me for a second and then sighed. "You had no right to say that to me. You don't know me."

I lowered my eyes to the counter. "AP physics?"

She nodded. "AP physics, biology, Spanish, English, math, algebra and French."

"So all of your classes?" I asked.

She shook her head. "Not gym and chemistry. I can't get my head around chemistry and I told you: I'm the least coordinated person you'll ever meet."

I smiled in amusement. "So, I know you like _The Scarlet Letter_, you like black and you're intelligent. What's your name?"

She sighed and shut her folder. "Gabriella Anna Maria Elizabeth Costa-Brava Montez. I'm eighteen years old and I've lived in Albuquerque since I was born. My parents own this store and I have a tabby cat named Hazel who is three years old. Now, you're Troy David Alexander Bolton, twenty-three years old, ex-captain of the Wildcats. You married Alexandra Baudelaire the summer after your graduation and she was killed at nineteen. You wrote the book in her honour."

"You know your stuff," I commented.

She shrugged. "I live here. When everything happened, you were all over the news. Besides, I read the book."

I nodded slowly. "Did you enjoy it?"

"Who knew? Albuquerque's resident primo boy knows more vocabulary than I thought," she murmured with a smirk.

"Primo boy?" I asked.

"Even when you got married, you had girls swooning over you, Preppy," she said quietly.

"You're sticking with that?" I asked unsurely.

She shrugged. "Why not?"

I held my hands up. "No reason."

"So, Preppy," she started, letting her eyes flit over my body, "what book do you want?"

I shrugged. "What do you recommend?"

She pushed her chair back and stood up, walking around the counter, revealing her black knee-length skirt, black tights and the black boots from the ball. She led me over to one of the far bookshelves in the fiction sections. She ran her slender finger elegantly along the spines of the books until she brought out a small book with very few pages. It didn't exactly appear to be heavy reading. She held it in her hands and smiled slightly to herself. "My mother loves this book and I do, too. I don't know if you want to read it or if you've seen the movie. You might be able to relate to it. Or it might be too painful and that's fine. I've got other books to recommend."

I smiled at her. "What did you gain from it?"

Gabriella shrugged and turned the book over to look at the blurb. "A lot. It's hard to explain. Maybe I'll tell you when you've read it." She looked up at me with those deep mocha eyes. "You of all people will understand."

I slowly took the book from her hands and read the blurb. "Is it romance?" I asked.

She nodded. "Romance, self discovery and belief, faith...It's not just about their relationship."

"How much is it?" I asked.

She led me back to the counter and took her seat behind the counter. "Three dollars."

I frowned. "I can give you more," I offered.

She shook her head. "It's fine. If I'm honest, we're grateful for everything we get. So, thank you."

I handed her a five dollar bill and smiled. "Please keep two dollars?"

She frowned and placed the bill in the cash register and brought out two dollars, thrusting them into my hand. "I don't want it," she exclaimed.

I threw it onto the counter. "I'm giving it to you," I said forcefully.

"I don't want it, okay? Just because you're dumb and rich doesn't mean that a smart and poor girl will just take your money," she yelled.

"Other than school, what makes you so smart?" I asked, slowly losing my patience.

She leaned back in her chair and smirked. "I wouldn't go for coffee with you."

I shrugged. "What makes you think I'd ask you for coffee?"

"Would you?" she asked.

I narrowed my eyes. "Why do you make things so difficult?"

She lowered her eyes to the counter. "That's not me. That's life." She looked up at me. "You know that."

I felt my throat constrict. "Yes. I do. And you've told me that you know that, too." I felt tears well in my eyes. "Please take it. Imagine that you were walking along and saw it in the street. Put it towards college or something."

She kept her eyes locked on me as she slowly reached forward and touched the two notes. She picked them up and stared at them. "Why are you nice to me?"

"What kind of question is that?" I murmured.

"I'm not exactly someone that people push each other out of the way so that they sit next to me at lunch, am I?" she snapped.

"Yeah," I whispered. "What's up with that?"

She sighed. "You won't understand."

"Well, I'll try," I said softly.

She slowly shook her head. "You might try but I don't want to tell you, okay? I barely know you."

I paused and creased my brow. "You know you can't hide, right?"

She glared at me, a look which seemed natural to her. "Stop it," she growled. "Don't say I'm lonely or I'm hiding. You have no right. You've got your book so get out."

I frowned. "Remember what I said: you can't hide forever."

* * *

I watched, impressed, as Chad patiently worked with the under tens basketball team. Since he had fallen in love with Taylor in practically pre-school, but only admitting it in our sophomore year, he had surprised everyone by studying business at college and successfully opening his own gym near East High. It wasn't anything spectacular but it was popular and used by locals every day. There were various sports clubs for all ages that played just for fun.

Chad Michael Danforth had never been particularly patient or sweet or considerate, really. It wasn't until Taylor had laid down the law – be nice or be gone – did Chad reconsider. It did him the world of good and he never looked back. I think in the beginning, it had simply been an act so that Taylor wouldn't leave him. Then, it became a habit. Then it became sincere.

Our dads had been best friends since college and so it had been a given that we'd just end up best friends, too. We'd been through everything together. Of course, Kelsi was my best friend, too. I went to her for emotional support. When I was nervous about a game, when I was nervous about proposing to Lexi...when Lexi died. She was so understanding and she was the one I went to when I needed someone to listen. Chad, on the other hand, was the friend I went to when I needed to clear my mind. Back in the old days, before my fame and before Lexi was killed, we'd just play basketball for hours and hours. Sometimes Zeke and Jason joined us and even Jack did from time to time. Not forgetting how Chad's randomness could take anyone's mind away from their problems. It's not that I didn't tell him everything because I did. I just didn't get the insightful and sympathetic responses like I did from Kelsi.

Mothers were surrounding me. Some were chatting, some were on the phone and some were reading magazines. But all were talking about me and sneaking glances every once in a while. I appreciated it, really. Without people like them, I wouldn't be where I am today. But, sometimes, I just wanted to meet my best friend from work and hang out without people following us. But, I knew it was part of the territory.

"Alright, kids, go and get changed. I'll see you next week," Chad yelled and hugged a few of them. The mothers surrounding me immediately stood up and made their way to the locker rooms to help their children change.

I slowly walked down the bleachers and over to Chad. "Hey, man," I greeted as we bumped fists.

He grinned and began walking around the gym, picking the discarded basketballs up. "How are you doing?"

"I'm good." How can I possibly tell him that I've met a beautiful goth girl who has me curiously wrapped around her little finger? The book she had sold me wasn't exactly too elaborate when it came to the characters' thoughts. But, it was a beautiful storyline which I could, just like Gabriella had promised, relate to.

Chad put all of the balls back onto a rack in the corner and then jogged over to me. "So, what have you been up to today?"

Like I said: I couldn't tell him about Gabriella. "I spent the day with Lexi. I had a lot to tell her."

He smiled sympathetically. "Do you feel better?"

I nodded. "Yeah, I do."

"Good," he said sincerely. He ran a hand over his face and then untied his mass of curls from the hair tie. It immediately bobbed up like a spring and I rolled my eyes. Chad was the craziest African-American I'd ever met. He had always had an unhealthy obsession with sport, especially basketball, and always had a crazy afro that couldn't be tamed even if he tried. The only way it could be tamed was when he had it in a small ponytail when he was coaching teams.

"The gang's all going out tonight, even the kids. You want to come?" he asked quietly.

I shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe. I'll see how I am."

"Well, the offers open," he murmured. "It's at Florio's at six."

I nodded. "Thanks. How are you and Tay?"

"Good," he answered. "She's doing really well. We're amazing."

I smiled. "Still got you wrapped around her little finger?"

Chad sighed. "Tighter than ever."

I slapped his shoulder. "The things we guys do for women."

"You were the same with Lexi!" he protested.

I grinned. "I know."

As I walked with Chad towards his office, I thought about Gabriella. Would Lexi approve of her? Would she want me to help Gabriella? I immediately knew the answer: yes. Of course she would. She'd help anybody given the chance. That's why she died. She was too kind. And I would live with her morals. Even if Gabriella didn't want my help, I'd keep offering it until she did want it. I wasn't going to give up on her. For whatever reason, she'd become accustomed to simply building a wall up, pushing people away and giving the impression that she was happy when she was alone.

But I knew otherwise.

That look in her eyes. She looked so shocked that I had been challenging her. It's as if everyone else had simply let her get on with it without even trying to persuade her to consider talking to someone about what was troubling her. It's as if people were scared. But, I wasn't. I was going to challenge her. I was going to show her that people care and listen. I wasn't going to let her live in silence and keep up the pretence of this I-don't-need-anybody attitude. Everybody needs someone.

Where had I been for the last four years? Other than travelling the world, I mean. She said that she was eighteen. That means I was at East High when she was a freshman. Did she act like that back then? I don't know...I was so caught up that year with the basketball championships, college and Lexi, I barely noticed anything that wasn't remotely related to any of those things. I used to be kind of a jerk. Not in a bully kind of way. But, just sort of ignorant to anything that didn't immediately concern me. I never went out of my way to ask if someone I didn't know was alright.

She could've been suffering for more than four years.

No wonder she was reluctant to talk to me. That fact only increased my determination to help her. I had to make it up to her. What I went through when Lexi died...I believed that I was alone and that no one could possibly feel the way I did. But, since I've been doing the motivational speaking seminars, I've discovered that so many people hide how they really feel for that very reason. There are six billion people in the world and, while no two people are the same, there are many people that feel just like you. Whether you've been dumped, lost someone near and dear to your heart or feel on a high after graduating, there are other people who can relate to how you feel.

But, those six billion people have six billion souls. And, sometimes, within those six billion souls, you need just one.

I hoped to God that Gabriella would find the one she needed.


	6. Chapter 5: Gabriella

Chapter 5

_Gabriella_

_**Sometimes when you're feeling particularly beaten down, the worst thing someone can do is be nice to you**_

It was gym. That glorious lesson where everyone makes fun of me. Jack Bolton, coincidently Troy's father, was sympathetic and made me play as little as possible. He let me sit on the bleachers and read until it was absolutely necessary for me to participate in whatever sport we were playing that week. He knew, just like I did, that the school required everybody to play at least one complete match and so cutting me out completely wasn't an option. East High was a school where each student was required to continue gym until graduation which means that it just added to the crappiness of the last four years.

I'll be honest, if I had friends, gym would probably be fun. We could have a laugh and just enjoy ourselves. But, since I didn't have any friends at all, it was just torture to me. When we played in teams, the other players insisted that I simply made it look like I was playing but never touched the ball. When it was an individual game, the opposing person was always so much better than me and gloated when they, inevitably, won.

I turned back to my book. I owed Jack a lot. My parents had told the school about how my mother's illness was affecting me and he was one of the few teacher's who had taken it on board instead of just taking my attitude and not taking the time to talk to me. A few weeks after I started at East High, he had found me during a free period and we had negotiated my gym classes. We got talking about my mother and he was, ultimately, the only one who fully knew about Maria. I kept him updated, knowing how much it meant to him that I'd told him. He'd confided in me that his mother had died two years before I attended East High due to a heart attack and he knew the heart ache and suffering that I was going through. It sounds crazy but Jack Bolton was my favourite teacher.

It had been a few days since Troy had visited the bookstore and my life was beginning to settle back into its original quiet little routine. I had no friends, Maria was good some days and bad others, and I kept the fact that I hadn't applied to college a secret. Today was a bad day for Maria. She'd still been asleep when I'd left for school. I'd tried to persuade Greg to let me stay home but he'd forced me to go to school. I wasn't happy. But, I was glad that I hadn't played basketball at all this lesson.

"Sorry I'm late," a familiar voice yelled followed by frantically running feet.

I glanced up and groaned. Jack introduced Troy and said how he was helping out this lesson. Some of the girls immediately started surrounding and flirting with him. Joy. Troy was a good guy, if I'm honest. I haven't anything against. He's had a rough time but I just don't want him around.

Maybe I should count myself lucky. I watched as Troy politely excused himself from the girls and headed towards the bleachers. He was four years older than me and could have any girl in the world. And he wanted to talk to me. Like I said: I should count myself lucky.

I tugged self-consciously on the white shorts that were way too revealing for my liking and dropped my eyes back to my book. Even after many protests, Jack had apologised, saying how he had tried to talk to the school board about the PE uniform but he was powerless. The PE uniform was horrible in my opinion. It just followed the school's record for encouraging students to be drawn into sports. It consisted of white shorts (okay, they weren't that shorts but I have leg issues!) and a red t-shirt with a white wildcat on it. We were required to wear white ankle socks and white sneakers. The boys' uniforms were similar but slightly different: they wore red basketball shorts and white jerseys with a red wildcat on it. They also had to wear the oh-so-fashionable white ankle socks and sneakers. Overall, we looked like walking, talking Christmas decorations.

Troy sat beside me and, once again, I tugged nervously at my shorts. "Gabriella?" he asked.

I curled a stray lock of hair behind my ear and sighed. "What are you doing here?"

"I offered to help out," he replied.

I lifted my head and turned to him. "But, you're not helping out by talking to me," I protested.

He shrugged. "I'd rather talk to you than get pestered by cheerleaders."

I frowned and turned back to my book. "Thanks...I think."

He nudged my shoulder. "Hey, it was a compliment. At least with you, I get treated like a human being. Ever since I was born people have idolised me and had expectations. With you, I'm treated like vermin."

"I said not to touch me, Preppy," I warned.

"I know where you got that from," he said quietly.

"_Love Story_," I whispered.

"Yeah," he muttered. "I liked it. I cried a lot. You were right: I could relate to it and it wasn't just the romance of it."

"Told you," I muttered teasingly.

"So, why do you sit up here?" Troy asked casually.

I sighed and shut my book, setting it aside. Troy Bolton made it impossible to read in his presence. "It's your dad. I have a lot to thank him for. This especially. You know I'm not coordinated. This class is just a way for the school to encourage the popular kids to enjoy the unpopular kids' humiliation. I have to play a full game of every sport but it's not as bad as participating in every lesson."

Troy smiled. "So you sit here and read?"

I nodded. "Yep."

"You don't get bored?" he asked unsurely.

I shook my head. "Nope."

"Are you limiting me to one word answers now?" he asked in amazement.

I shrugged. "Maybe."

I looked across at him and the sight made me feel unnerved: I wanted to smile at him. I didn't, of course. Troy was wearing a grey basketball jersey and some navy blue basketball shorts with some sneakers. His dirty blonde hair was messy as if he'd just rolled out of bed. If I'm honest, I wouldn't be surprised. He was everything I despised: honest, funny, messy, ex-jock and persistent along with about a million other things that should unnerve me and make me act even harder than I already did.

So, why did I feel so relaxed?

He leaned back against the row of bleachers behind us, using his elbows as support. His legs were wide open, too. God, what a slob! Could this guy get any worse? He turned to me, his blue eyes so beautiful. His eyes were so deep, giving me access to his deepest emotions. While I worked so hard to keep mine hidden away from everyone, sometimes even myself, he was never ashamed to show how he felt: happy, sad, confused...Even though he had lost practically his entire world, now he was grinning at me, one that wasn't teasing like the jocks from school, sympathetic like the ones I received from local people, or a smile that tried so hard to reassure me that everything would be okay even when we all know it wouldn't be.

That frustrated me even more. How can he be so open, so happy, when his wife is dead?

"Do you want to get out of here?" he asked suddenly.

I frowned. "Are you trying to seduce me? I'm not having sex in school. Whether it's in a classroom, in the locker room or in a closet. It's a no-go."

Troy raised his eyebrows inquisitively.

I shrugged self-consciously. "What?"

"You're a virgin," he murmured quietly. He wasn't teasing, just stating the truth.

"What gave me away?" I asked quietly.

"Well, apart from how you laid down the law of no sex, you admitted you have no friends which leads to the assumption of no boyfriends, and you're happy to sit on the bleachers during gym with a book? It was just a hunch," he said jokingly.

I cracked a small smile. "It's hardly surprising. Even before high school, I wasn't exactly...attractive. I had glasses, braces...the works. I'd hoped to put middle school behind me, you know, start a new school, new slate. But, it never happened."

"Do you wear glasses now?" Troy enquired.

"Contacts," I explained. "I don't know why I bother, to be honest. I get teased already."

"By the way," Troy started as he stood up, "you're very beautiful." He jogged down the bleachers towards Jack who was standing at the sideline. They spoke for a couple of moments, glancing in my direction. It unnerved me but what could they be talking about that was so bad?

I tugged at my ponytail; another downside to PE. Girls with hair longer than shoulder length was required to tie it back in a ponytail. It was also required that no jewellery was worn. But, that didn't really apply to me. I didn't have pieced ears (shocking or what) and the only piece of jewellery I wore was a gold cross that Maria had given to me a few weeks after her diagnosis.

Troy hugged Jack and then he headed back up to me. He held his hand out to me. "I've got it sorted. Will you come with me?"

"Where?" I asked.

"Imagine the ball. You didn't know me and I want to surprise you. Come on," he urged gently.

I stood up and regarded him. "You know my rule. Lead the way." I gestured with my arm to the gym and picked my book up. I followed him down the bleachers and we headed towards the back door which led to the outside football pitch, soccer field, running track, baseball pitch and outside basketball court. I saw the girls give me evil looks, the bitches that constantly taunted me about being a virgin (apparently the only virgin at East High but that was judging from the comments I hear).

Troy opened the door for me and gestured to the basketball court. "Go on."

I stepped through onto the concrete basketball court and bent down to place my book on the sidelines. "What's going on?"

Troy jogged over to me, glancing at my book along the way. "Do you take a book everywhere?"

"Yes," I answered simply. "Wherever I go, my book goes."

Troy nodded. "That's really cool. _Love Story_ is the first book I've read in a long time. Anyway, I talked to my Dad. You can do gym out here. To save you being in there with everyone else."

"What?" I whispered.

He shrugged. "Do you want to?"

"Are you kidding?" I exclaimed. "Leaving all of the humiliation and all those idiots inside? Of course. It's sick, really. Even the science nerds laugh at me."

"Can I ask a question?" Troy asked.

"Sure," I whispered.

"Why does my dad let you sit out?" he enquired.

I walked over to pick up a basketball and rested it on my hip as I talked to him. "Because he understands. My parents told East High something when I first started here. Your dad was the only one who listened. He sat down with me and we talked about it. I'd been here a few weeks and so he'd seen me in gym. He offered for me to sit out, if that would make my life easier. I agreed: anything to make humiliation less." A thought occurred to me. "Don't think that just because your dad knows you can ask him what's wrong."

Troy nodded. "That's fine. You can tell me when you're ready or not at all. I don't mind but the offer's open."

I shrugged. "Maybe one day." I spun the basketball on my finger and glanced at him. "Don't act so surprised. This doesn't take coordination. It's basic geometry and physics."

Troy took the basketball away. "You want to play?"

"You'll laugh but I don't care when you do, Preppy," I replied, folding my arms. I tugged uncertainly at my white shorts.

He frowned with what? Concern? "What's wrong?"

"It's this uniform. I look like a walking candy cane."

Troy nodded and chuckled. "Yeah you do."

"Hey," I protested and slapped his arm.

"Ow. Why do you keep hitting me?" he exclaimed.

"You keep being annoying, Preppy," I muttered. "I thought you said you can't play anymore."

"Nah. My skills are just messed up since Lexi died," he explained. "There's nothing I can do. I just can't play that well anymore. I can still teach you."

I shrugged. "Alright. Teach me, Preppy."

"Do you mind if I touch you?" he asked.

I slowly shook my head. "Thank you for asking."

He guided me to stand in front of the basketball hoop. He stood behind me and held the basketball in front of me. "Hold it," he whispered, his breath tickling my ear. I involuntarily shivered from the sensation.

I held it in my hands and swallowed nervously. "Okay," I muttered. "Now what?"

He placed his hands over mine and moved them until one was on the side and the other was on the bottom. "Relax," he commanded quietly. "This is why you don't play very well. You're too tense."

"That's easy for you to say. You can run without tripping over your own feet," I grumbled.

I could almost feel him smile. "True," he whispered.

"Why did you offer to do this for me?" I asked. I could feel his chest pressed against my back and I felt the heat emanating from his body. I felt my stomach churn from feeling it and I had to close my eyes to stop me from fainting at the feeling.

"Because you're the only one that isn't swooning over me. And I like you," he murmured.

"Is that the only reason you did this? So you can seduce me?" I asked, not really knowing the answer I wanted.

"No," he whispered. "I did this because I wanted to do this." He took his hands away from fine and suddenly his hands were attacking my sides.

I started laughing and shrieking in surprise. I dropped the basketball and started trying to pry his fingers away from me. "Preppy," I gasped, "please."

"Why?" he asked. "Say that I'm gorgeous."

"Never," I managed to gasp out.

He stopped tickling me and I caught my breath. I turned to him and slapped his chest. "Hey!" he exclaimed.

"Hey," I mimicked. "That wasn't funny. I couldn't breathe." But, even as I said it, I could hear a giggle bubble from my lips.

"At least I know you're not completely devoid from human qualities. You're ticklish and you can laugh. A beautiful laugh, by the way," he said sincerely.

"You are so annoying, Preppy," I exclaimed indignantly.

He picked the basketball up and grinned. "Ah, but you'll learn to love me."

"Really?" I asked. I glanced at the ball in his hands and snatched it from him, waving it back and fore. I started walking backwards with it.

He pointed at me, grinning. "No, that's travelling. That's really bad travelling."

I turned around and started running and stumbling away. I felt two arms wrap around me from behind and Troy picked me up, spinning me around. I squirmed in his arms. "Preppy," I exclaimed.

He set me down and I turned to him. "So, you _are_ human. I had my doubts."

I coughed, suddenly realising what had occurred. I had, for the first time in five years, got caught up in the moment. And it scared me. I didn't need or want Troy in my life. I didn't need a complication. My emotions had been damaged enough without the help of some guy. Okay, I'll admit he wasn't 'some guy'. He was...He was verging on perfect. But, I still didn't want him.

Needing him, however, was completely different.

I walked back over to the basketball hoop and sighed. "Are you going to teach me or not?" I muttered in my monotone.

I knew he was confused as he walked over to me. I was too. But, the thing is, I couldn't risk getting hurt. I lived everyday with a broken heart, having to wake up, praying that Maria hadn't passed away in her sleep. If I opened up to Troy, a guy who was leaving Albuquerque in a matter of weeks, what were the chances of being hurt?

I couldn't chance it.


	7. Chapter 6: Troy

**A/N: I'm so sorry it's taken so long. Homework is a nightmare right now. Ummm...but, I've started learning the guitar and I can half play 'he could be the one' by Hannah Montana (not well and I don't know the chord B) but I can play 'silent night' (once again: very badly)**

**Don't own**

**x

* * *

**

Chapter 6

_Troy_

_**Gravitation is not responsible for people falling in love**_

It was hard to believe that Gabriella was real. I'd never told her that and with her walls getting taller the longer I stayed around, I doubted she'd let me stay if I did. Those walls were so damn annoying. Just once, I'd like to hear her talk without he holding anything back. All we talked about were books. And, yeah, the things she said about them were amazing. Her interpretations of the smallest thing were incredible. But, I still didn't know her. I don't know her taste in music, her favourite flavour of ice cream, what she has for breakfast or what she got for her tenth birthday. I know none of that because she blatantly refused to talk about it.

The walls weren't just to hold people back. I'd seen this numerous times before. She was holding herself back, scared of exposing herself to the world, scared to be seen for what she truly was. But, because I'd seen this before, the walls were all but useless. I could see her. She was simply a beautiful, intelligent young woman who simply had something wrong with her life. I still had to find out what that 'something' was but it was all about baby steps.

Gabriella was all I started thinking about. From the moment I woke up to the minute I went to sleep. Lexie had taken my dreams up, now. Although I felt guilty about how Lexie was now at the back of my mind, I knew it was what she would've wanted. It was time to move on. Gabriella was a diamond in the rough and she just needed some polishing, some help. I was willing to help her. I'd do anything to make sure she was okay.

Since I'd helped her with basketball in gym, she'd been even more reluctant around me, as if laughing for one mere minute had exposed her to the harsh cruelties of the world. But that didn't dissuade me. I found it...sweet. The way she'd avoid my eyes, her voice low and mumbling, and how she pretended not to acknowledge my care and worry for her.

Because that's what I felt.

I didn't want her to harm herself mentally because of her reluctance to be exposed. I'll be the first to admit that when you feel that your life is falling apart, it's difficult to accept people's help and face up to the world. But, when you accomplish it, when you finally relent and tell people who are begging to help, a great weight is lifted and you regret holding the information back.

It had become a habit, since that gym lesson, to meet up with Gabriella after school at the bookstore. It had started out with me wandering in when I got there. However, with some persuasion, she had accepted my invitation to drive her there, instead. She didn't volunteer to start a conversation and, like I said, the topics didn't stray too far from books but it was progress.

Baby steps.

It was frustrating; having someone you care for push you away and, although I didn't want to push Gabriella even further away, I knew that, one day, she'd break down and need help. And I'd be there. I always will be. Even when I'm in New York or Paris or Sydney...I had promised myself that before I left to continue with my seminars, I would convince her that I'd stay in contact with her. I'd e-mail her everyday and call her. That way, we'd be together all of the time, even when we weren't together at all.

Okay, so that was still farfetched considering she had been reluctant just to get a chair so that I didn't stand all of the time. What were the chances she'd give me her cell phone number and e-mail?

It kind of scared me, how I wanted to be around her so much. But, I didn't need or want a reason. Reasons ruined the spontaneity of acting on feelings that you don't understand.

The Saturday after the first gym lesson, I found myself sat at the edge of the counter that was perpendicular to the edge that Gabriella was sitting at. Her folder was open and so was a textbook (possibly math or algebra) and she was scribbling furiously across pages and pages and pages. When she struggled to work out the answer, she would absentmindedly chew the end of her pencil and her chin was always resting in the palm of her hand. As always, she was in black: a long sleeved shirt and some black jeans with silver studs lining the outside of her legs.

I was sat, reading another of Gabriella's recommendations, _The Last Song_ by Nicholas Sparks. It was an intriguing novel and certain parts of Ronnie, the central girl, reminded me of Gabriella.

I glanced over at Gabriella and frowned. "Do you actually understand this stuff?"

Gabriella glanced at me and then turned back to her work. "If by 'stuff' you mean AP algebra, then, yeah. I do understand it."

I shut my book and set it on the counter. "I hope you know that I feel ridiculously dumb whenever I talk to you, right?"

She glanced across at me again. "Only when you talk to _me_ Preppy?" she asked.

I rolled my eyes. "It's nice to know you're going out of your way to improve my self esteem."

She laughed sarcastically. Although it wasn't a sincere laugh, it was so beautiful. So beautiful. "You? You need self esteem? You were the first sophomore ever-"

"To get starting varsity, I know, I know. You think I haven't heard it before?" I asked and I stood up, staring at all of the wonderful masterpieces that were crammed inside the tiny room. "I was voted captain, most popular guy in school. Made the redhawks team at U of A and I had a beautiful wife." I turned to her, taking in her serious face. "And what was the point in it? I didn't finish college, I lost my wife...I've been thinking. When did things go wrong in your life? Don't jump down my throat, I'm not asking for the details. You know I wouldn't ask that. Just, please?" I sat back next to her and looked intently at her eyes.

Gabriella stared back at me, her face unreadable as she seemed to contemplate whether to answer or not. She released a sigh and set her pencil down, scratching the back of her head. She stretched her back and shoulder muscles and finally her arms. She relaxed back into her chair and turned to me, her arms folded protectively across her chest. "About five years ago. I hadn't really changed, though, until my freshman year. Then, I made the decision to be like this and it's been like that ever since."

I licked my lips and ran a hand through my hair. Five years. I was at East High while she was there. I swallowed and shut my eyes. "I'm so horrible," I muttered.

"Well, I wouldn't say that, Preppy. There are worse guys on the football team," she offered. It was the kindest thing she'd ever said to me.

I looked at her and sighed. "Ella, I didn't mean that."

"What'd you call me?" she asked in shock.

I frowned. "Ella? Is that okay?"

She bit her lip, evidently holding back a smile, and nodded. "Sure. Why not, Preppy?"

I shook my head, wanting to get back on track. "Anyway, I meant that, although I wasn't intentionally horrible, I still was. When I was a senior, you were a freshman. I never noticed how withdrawn you are. I never noticed anything. That's why I'm so determined to help you. I hate the fact that I was selfish, not including anyone that wasn't a part of my perfect world."

A silence enveloped us and I concentrated on my book. I was afraid to look at her. She was so against showing emotion and, although she knew my story, I hadn't exactly volunteered anything like that, either. I didn't want to push her away. I didn't want her to think that I saw her as some charity case, wanting to make up for my wrongdoings in high school or for good publicity. It was partly the first one but publicity hadn't entered my mind. I honestly wanted to help her.

A tentative hand was suddenly on mine. I wanted to look up and see Gabriella's beautiful face. But, what if I was dreaming, imagining her silky skin resting on top of mine? I couldn't be sure. It had been the first act of affection she'd ever showed me, I didn't want it to stop. I found comfort from, knowing we had taken the tiniest of baby steps to get her to make the first touch for once.

"Preppy," she whispered.

I lifted my head and our eyes locked, both of us freezing at the closeness of our faces. I swallowed hard and lifted my free hand to hesitantly brush a lock of dark hair behind her ear. "I'm sorry," I whispered. "I didn't mean-"

"It doesn't matter," she mumbled. "It's in the past, okay? If there's anything I've learnt in the past five years, it's to have no regrets. Live for today. You know that, too."

I nodded weakly. "Yeah. But, I didn't mean to poor that on you."

She looked like a small child, unsure of what to say. She swallowed and sighed, pulling back slightly and moving her hand back to her lap. "It doesn't matter. That was really sweet, what you just said. And, when you were at East High, I was still coming to terms with it and I would've been ever harsher than I am already. I don't mean to be but five years wanting things to be normal and putting up with bullies, it's just a habit, I guess."

"You can break- Wait, what? Bullies? What bullies?" I demanded.

She raised her eyebrows inquisitively.

I looked away in embarrassment. "Not that I'm bothered at all," I said sarcastically, knowing there was no point in lying at all.

She released a quiet giggled, one I was sure that she hadn't intended me to hear. "Not exactly bullies. It's just that some kids knock my books down and tease me and stuff because of my voice and the way I dress and stuff."

"Then, why don't you change?" I asked.

She frowned. "Well, I guess I could. But," She paused and faltered, creasing her beautiful brow.

"You don't have to," I offered. "It was just a suggestion. I don't know the deal with your life but if you change your clothes and maybe lose the monotone, it would add less stress."

"It makes sense," she mumbled. "But, I don't want friends. I can't deal with that right now."

I frowned and felt a little down heartened that she wasn't even close to thinking of me as a friend. I looked directly at her, knowing I was probably pushing my luck but couldn't help myself. "You might not want a friend, but everyone _needs_ a friend."

"I have my parents," she said strongly as if that answered everything. "They're my friends. It's always been that way. Maria, Greg and Gabriella, taking on the world together."

"It's great that you're friends with your parents but everyone needs friends closer to their own age. You need a friend like-" I cut my sentence short when she turned to me suddenly.

"You?" she asked.

I shrugged. "Well, in theory."

"You're not a friend to me," she muttered, fiddling with her discarded pencil. She suddenly met my eyes with her mocha ones. "You're practically my stalker who I can't escape."

I smiled slightly. "Stalker, huh?"

"You walked into this very bookstore a day or so after we met!" she exclaimed.

"Hey, I didn't know your parents owned this place," I defended.

She smiled slightly. "Well, you do now."

I checked my watch. "Kels and Tay are coming down in a minute."

She looked at me in surprise. "Do you mean Kelsi and Taylor? Kelsi's the music teacher at East High? You're...You're friends with them?"

I nodded. "I've known Kelsi my entire life. She's like a sister to me. Taylor, too. They're both huge parts of my life. They're...They're the ones who pushed me to get my book published."

She frowned. "Oh. Okay. That's fine."

"Do you want to go for some lunch when they're gone?" I asked.

She looked at me sceptically. "I don't know. I mean, I can't leave the store."

"Come on!" I exclaimed. "You need a break. You can't go the entire day without food. What were you going to do about lunch?"

For the first time since we met, a pretty blush graced her cheeks. She coughed in embarrassment. "I was actually going to ask you to go down to starbucks and get me a sandwich or something."

I raised my eyebrows. "Just shut the store for an hour. One hour. That's all."

She sighed. "Possibly. I'll call my dad after Kelsi and Taylor have come here."

I nodded. "Thank you."

The bell above the door chimed and in walked Taylor and Kelsi. "Speak of the devils," I joked.

They approached the counter and Taylor, an intelligent African-American, smiled at Gabriella and me. "Hey Troy. What are you doing here?"

"Oh, I'm just hanging out with Gabriella. Ella, this is Tay and Kels. Tay, Kels, this is Gabriella," I introduced.

Taylor and Kelsi both smiled politely at Gabriella and, for a moment, I saw a look of recognition flash through Kelsi's eyes. "You're name's Gabriella?" she asked slowly.

Gabriella nodded. "Yeah, that's me."

I frowned. "Why does it matter?"

"She's the girl I told you about!" she exclaimed.

I looked at Gabriella in shock to see, for the first time in our...um, friendship, a soft pink grace its way up her cheeks. "You play the piano?"

She coughed self-consciously. "A little bit."

"A little bit?" Kelsi exclaimed in shock. "You're amazing!"

"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked.

She shrugged. "You never asked. I'll just go and call my dad." She stood up and went to the back door and pull out her cell phone.

I turned to Kelsi and Taylor. "So, what are you two up to today?"

Kelsi held her hand up. "What are you doing here?" she demanded.

I flinched, as did Taylor, and frowned. "Uhhh...I said. I'm hanging out with El...Why?"

Kelsi sighed. "She's trouble. She's bad news. You'll end up hurt. She runs away from everything, Troy. She runs from teachers like me, friends...Troy, she's running away from her life. She's got no friends, she's alone and she never smiles."

"She smiles around me. Sometimes," I mumbled.

Kelsi shook her head. "It's not enough. She runs away from her life, okay? It's what she does. Instead of admitting that life's not fair, she cowers away like a little girl waking up from a nightmare. Except that she can't wake up. You'll get hurt. And if she doesn't hurt you, you're leaving in two months! If you somehow miraculously manage to get through to her, make her see purpose, you'll end up hurting her. Don't you see it?"

I frowned and looked at the counter. I'd never thought like that. All I'd ever thought about was getting through to Gabriella, wanting to hear her story and make things better. I'd never thought about the consequences...that I'd possibly hurt her. It never occurred to me to tell her that I was leaving to continue my tour. How could I ever continue with that, knowing that I'd hurt her. And if I left with both of our emotions intact, how could I live without her? I needed her number. I couldn't leave without it. I wouldn't hurt her.

I wouldn't.

I looked up at Kelsi and released a quiet noise halfway to a growl. "Don't you know me? I don't give up. And I will not give up on her. You've got that?"

Kelsi nodded. "I just don't want you hurt," she whispered.

Gabriella came back in, slipping her phone into her pocket and froze when she saw we were all staring at her. "What? What happened?"

I shook my head. "Nothing. Kels and Tay were just leaving." I knew Kelsi was trying to protect me but I'm a big boy. I wasn't mad at her, I was thankful. This made me more determined than ever.

Kelsi nodded. "Right." She hugged me and then turned to Gabriella. "I'll see you in school."

Taylor hugged me and smiled. "You'll be fine. Both of you will." She left with Kelsi and then Gabriella and I were alone again.

Gabriella sat next to me and frowned. "What was that about?" she mumbled.

I shook my head. "It doesn't matter. I promise. What did your dad say?"

"We can lock up for an hour, yeah. He said its fine. It probably wouldn't make a difference to our income anyway," she muttered.

As she shut her books and folder and locked the cash register, I made a promise, to her and to myself: I wouldn't hurt her.

I wouldn't.

I couldn't.


	8. Chapter 7: Gabriella

**A/N: Merry Christmas!!! Woohoo. I have a shiny, very beautiful, pink laptop!!! It's so gorgeous. So, um, it's been forever, right? I'm sorry. I've got so much college work, it's not even funny. Anyway, I hope you like it :)**

**Don't own HSM

* * *

**

Chapter 7

_Gabriella_

**If you reveal your ****secrets**** to the wind you should not blame the wind for revealing them to the trees**

Since Kelsi and Taylor had visited the bookstore, Troy had been sort of mellower. He simply talked about his work, what his seminars entailed, his friends, his family, he talked endlessly about his brother, David. He never shut up about him. But, I was glad. I thought it was sweet. It was clear that David had been a part of his perfect world, and still is, and now he felt guilty that he wasn't around anymore. That made me feel a little guilty because Troy was now around me all of the time. Maybe if I told him why I act like I do, he'd feel different and spend his time in Albuquerque wisely with David and his family.

He's been talking about Lexi recently, in the last few days. I don't know why. We'd always stuck to talking about books, safe territory. But, it seemed like he was talking about her because he didn't know who else to talk to about it. He had no one else to tell the stuff he was telling me. He told me all of their little routine they had built together, how even though they were popular in school, they had embarrassing pet names for each other. He told me how they had been planning to start trying for a baby. Maybe they were a little young, but he said how it seemed to be the one thing missing from their world.

His voice kept running through my head all of the time. The voice he used when talking about her almost broke my heart, shattering it into bread crumbs. It's like Lexi is still with him, in his mind. He goes with his day, looking like anybody else in the world. But in fact, when he's alone, he talks to her. She's always there, in his mind. Would that happen to me when Maria dies? Be so heartbroken and alone that I'm forced to retreat back into her memory. Although I know Troy's worried about me, and I respect that, he should honestly worry himself a lot more. I've still got time before the possibility of talking to Maria in my head becomes a reality.

I sat on the edge of Maria's bed, a cold damp cloth in hand, and stroked her forehead, smoothing away the cold sweat that had formed on her face. We could've called an ambulance but, in all honesty, what was the point? I'd seen this a hundred times before. The only thing the doctors would do would give her morphine to stop the pain and, when she had days like this, she was mostly asleep anyway. So, to save even more medical bills, Maria requested to be left at home.

The door creaked open and Greg smiled at me. I returned it with a tiny one of my own as I continued to wipe Maria's face, my fingers tracing her papery skin. If you didn't know any better and felt her skin, you'd think she was twenty years older than she actually was. They say that if you see someone everyday for years on end, you never see them change. But, if you look at a picture from six years ago every night before you go to sleep, you do see the change. The way her hair is thinner, her skin paler...her figure smaller. I looked at the picture every night to keep her alive. In that picture, she was healthy, she hadn't suffered chemotherapy or pain or the dreaded words from Doctor Reed. "You've stopped responding to treatments." The words taunted me, telling me over and over again how Maria's death was looming ever closer...and there wasn't anything anybody could do about it.

I sympathised with Greg. He was losing his wife, his rock...and me. Throughout all of this, I hadn't made things better. If anything, I made it worse. The constant slamming of doors, if only figuratively, when things didn't go my way. When Maria's disease snuck up, if only for an instant in a conversation, I immediately shut down. Not literally. But, I used my monotone, even around my parents, and made a quick, and often untrue, excuse to leave.

He rested a hand on my shoulder. "Gabi," he whispered.

"I don't want to leave," I mumbled, keeping my eyes locked on Maria.

"I'll call you, you know I will," he said strongly.

I shook my head. "I'd much rather stay here. I want to be here if anything happens."

I could feel his eyes boring holes into my head. "Come downstairs with me." Just by the tone, I knew it wasn't a request. Although he didn't ask too much of me, and maybe because of that, I never denied him anything.

I set the damp cloth on the bedside cabinet and kissed Maria's forehead. I followed Greg downstairs and we both sat on the sofa in the lounge. There was a silence between us, an awkwardness emanating from him. It made me nervous, tense, wondering why on earth he'd be awkward. Unless he knew I hadn't applied to Stanford. That would be awkward. He'd practically force me to go. I don't want to leave Maria, or him. He can't be alone when she dies. I have to be here.

"Gabi," he whispered.

I turned to him and shrugged. "What?"

"Do you...You're going to hate me and you have every right to. I hate myself for it. I...I still don't understand why your mother doesn't hate me." He fiddled with his hands, a nervous habit I had picked up.

"What could be that bad that I would hate you?" I asked quietly, unsure where this was going.

"Remember when Maria was diagnosed? Remember that? How I'd been so caught up in work?" he asked.

I nodded. "Sure. You worked endless hours. You never seemed to stop."

"That's the thing. When Maria was diagnosed, I'd," he had to pause to inhale a shaky breath. His eyes were shiny and his words were strung together incorrectly. "I'd affair had Maria diagnosed."

I froze for a moment, rearranging the words until they made sense. I suddenly snapped my head to face him, my eyes searching his for the sign of some sick joke. "What?"

He shrugged uncomfortably. "Don't worry. I told her. I don't know why I did it. It was only when Maria needed me, truly needed me, did I snap out of it. I think I did it because of the adrenaline. You know? Sneaking around? I suppose that makes it worse."

I stared at him in disbelief, not knowing if I should laugh or cry. I suppose it wouldn't matter. Greg, the one constant in my life, had just shattered my respect I had for him. This man, the only man I'd had in my life, had almost destroyed my family. But, Maria had obviously forgiven him. If she could, I could.

The only thing I could think to say came out as a sort of whimper. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Greg sighed. "You took Maria's disease so bad, I didn't want to make it worse. Maria agreed with me."

I suddenly stood up, smoothing out my black denim skirt and black tights. "I'll open the store," I mumbled quietly, walking through the house to the front door. I saw a dark figure through the frosted glass and opened the door before they could knock. "Preppy?" I asked in disbelief, unsure if I wanted him or not. "What the hell are you doing here?" Although I didn't do it consciously, and certainly didn't mean it, there was an icy tone to my question. I reached for the keys to the store from the hook and stepped out of the house, shutting the door behind me.

"Well, it's nine thirty. I wondered why the store isn't open," he mumbled.

I sighed as I glanced in both directions and then crossed the street. I stole a glance of him as I unlocked the store's door. "Complications," I muttered lowly. I fiddled with the handle after hearing the lock click and frowned, kicking the door. "Come on. I don't need this." I shoved my shoulder against it and pushed with all of my might, which admittedly wasn't much.

I felt Troy's chest behind me and, after a few pushes between us, the door swung open and we both fell through onto the floor. The overhead bell jangled annoyingly and I just lay there with my eyes closed, willing myself to wake up any second in my bed. I felt Troy shift beside me as I rolled onto my back, my eyes still closed. I felt two fingers on each of my temples and start moving in slow, relaxing circles. Usually, I'd snap at how he hadn't asked permission to touch me but I didn't want him to stop. It was relaxing and soothing, making the fast spinning world that I'd been living in for the past five years finally slow down so that I could breathe and think things through.

"El," he murmured lowly in his dulcet voice. It sounded almost seductive. I didn't care that I was lying on the floor of the bookstore, I didn't care that the door was still wide open. I just felt Troy's fingers against my temples. "What's wrong? Not generally. Just...What's wrong about today?"

I groaned, half from pleasure and half from my confusion. "It's not fair."

"Shh...Why? What happened?" he whispered.

I sat up and turned to face him, letting the door finally shut as well. "You think you know someone, you go through so much with them and they still stab you in the back. And the fact they tell you themselves makes it that much more painful. It's not fair."

Troy frowned at me. "I've never seen you like this before."

I frowned. "Don't get used to it. I'm just in shock. It's just...not fair."

Troy moved to touch my hand and then moved back. "What happened?"

I pushed myself from the floor and stood up. "It sucks." I sat down behind the counter and unlocked the cash register. I looked up as Troy sat next to me and stared at the counter. I sighed. "You really wanna know?"

Troy nodded earnestly and looked up at me. "Yeah, I really care about you. Even if you don't believe me."

I sighed I had to look away to stop the tears from welling in my eyes. "My dad cheated on my mom."

Troy frowned. "What? I thought you said your mom was everything to him?"

I nodded and took a pen from the pot to the side and began fiddling with it. "My dad told me how my mom was and is everything to him. Except me. And, this morning, he told me that he had an affair five years ago. He broke it off when my mom really needed him. He told her and, for some bizarre reason, forgave him."

"What did you say?" Troy asked quietly, looking over at me.

I shrugged. "What can I say? What do you say when your own father admits to having an affair? What words can possibly express what I feel?"

"I meant," he began calmly, "did you forgive him?"

I looked him in the eyes, searching for what to say. Did I forgive Greg? Through everything Maria had been through... For the first time in Troy's presence, I felt weak and fragile, like a little girl who'd just fallen over and hurt her knee. "Do you think I should?" I asked quietly.

Troy was silent for a moment. Just a moment filled with a soft silence. He reached forwards and brushed some of my hair behind my ear. "I think," he whispered as his finger ran down my cheek, "the only thing you can do is listen to your heart. It's easier than you think."

I sighed and stared at the counter. "How could he do that?"

"Doesn't it tell you something, though, that he came back running when she needed him _and_ she accepted him?" he asked.

I bit my lip. "It's hard to understand what was sincere considering Greg didn't tell me because of how bad I took the news five years ago."

"Don't you think if they had stayed together for you, which is as good a reason as any, there would have been at least _some_ ill feelings between them?" Troy asked.

I groaned and let my forehead fall onto the counter. "Please don't use the word ill when talking about my parents." I sat back up and shook my head. "I sometimes wonder why God chose my family, my mom...me. It sounds cliché, I know, but it's not fair. If it's not one thing, it's another. And it's been one continuous thing for five years, and things keep piling on top of it."

Troy stared at me for a while and usually I wouldn't mind him being quiet, it would be a change compared to his constant chatter about things I honestly don't care about. But, I wanted him to say something, anything, to get me to stop thinking about what Greg did. He finally dug into his pocket and took out a small rectangular jewellery. He set it on the counter and slid it across to me.

I stared at it and then lifted my eyes to him. "I don't want it," I muttered.

He raised his eyebrows. "But...You don't know what it is."

I shrugged. "I don't you to buy me stuff. I don't."

He sighed and opened it for me, revealing a small silver bracelet. It had a small silver star and then five charms, spelling out DREAM. "This was Lexi's. Her older brother bought it for her eighteenth birthday. When she died, I found a note in the box, telling me to give it to someone who needed hope and faith, something to believe in."

I eyed him wearily, wondering if I was piecing everything together right in my mind or whether I was simply making something out of nothing. After all, I had just found out my father had had an affair whilst my mother was critically ill. I took the bracelet out of the box and examined it closely. It was beautiful, truly. But, I couldn't wear it. Not if my assumptions were true. And, if it was true and Troy knew it, I doubted he would want me to wear it either. I placed it back in the box and then stood up, shaking my head. "I can't have that."

Troy frowned as I walked towards one of the shelves, searching for one particular book. "Why not?" he demanded as he followed, clutching the jewellery box.

I shrugged. "I don't want it." I turned to him. "You believe dreams come true? Honestly? I want to be a lawyer. That's my dream. And if I meet Mr Right along the way, that'd be cool. But, ultimately I want to go to law school. But I'm not because dreams don't come true, okay?"

Troy's eyes darkened. "You believe that? Do your parents know you think like that?"

I shook my head. "No. While I could be at Stanford, the best law school ever, I'm going to be here, selling second-hand books that makes barely any money."

"But, why would you..." Troy trailed off as a look of realisation dawned on him. "Hold up. What you just said. You're not going to college?"

I lowered my eyes and shuffled my feet. I felt like a child, being caught with her hand in the cookie jar. I honestly felt scared of what Troy would think. Greg and Maria can't find out. No way. I shook my head and then looked up at Troy. I felt my eyes water and shrugged. "Go ahead, lecture me. Tell me how I'm wasting my life away, and maybe I am. But, you have no clue why I'm not going to college, okay, so please don't act like you know what's best for me." I sniffed and wiped my eyes with the back of my hand.

Troy leaned against the wall, looking like he just saw a ghost. He stared blankly ahead. "Your parents don't know, do they?"

I shook my head. "No. They don't. So, feel free. Tell them."

"If it's money, then there are scholarships you can apply for, I can help-" he started confidently.

"Stop!" I exclaimed. "Just...stop!" I cried. "It's not just the money. I don't want to leave. I can't bear it. Leaving my parents? I can't stand the thought."

Troy glared and stepped forward to grip my shoulders as he stared into my eyes. "I wish you'd tell me what's wrong," he whispered.

I slowly twisted out of his grip. "I wish I didn't have to. I wish there wasn't anything wrong for me to tell you." I turned back to the shelf and continued to scan the spines of the books.

"El, do you think we would've met if your life wasn't screwed up?" Troy asked quietly, evidently cautious of the words he used.

I sighed and took a book out, scanned the contents and then replaced it. "I honestly don't know."

"Are you glad we met?" he asked gently.

I glanced over my shoulder briefly. "Yeah. I am." I turned back to the shelf and took a book of short stories out. I flipped open the cover and scanned down the contents before feeling victory swell within me. I turned to Troy and sighed, knowing that I was possibly screwing everything up. But, if it was true, he had a right to know. "Troy, when Lexi died, it was an accident, wasn't it?"

Troy shrugged and nodded. "Yeah, a drunk driver killed her."

I took a deep breath. "Was that bracelet the only thing that had a note with it?"

As I predicted, he shook his head. "No. Virtually everything she owned had a note with it. Why?"

"Why would she have done that, when she didn't know she was going to die?" I whispered, staring at the book in my hands.

"What are you saying?" Troy demanded.

I handed the book to him. "You might want to read _The Legacy_ by Virginia Woolf. It might give you an insight to other possibilities."

He snatched the book from me and stared at it before turning to me, forcing me to back up into the shelf behind me. "Say what's on your mind right now," he growled.

"Well, I was thinking about it. It's just weird that she left notes to you, telling you to give her possessions to people. It seemed odd that she did that when it was an accident. Maybe...Maybe she wanted to die," I suggested quietly.

Troy glared viciously at me. "You're saying that my wife was suicidal?"

"Well, it makes sense. And, don't you remember? I don't suppose you would. You would've been preoccupied, I guess. Three weeks earlier...Hugh Bowman, the football captain from your class, drowned in the lake in Santa Fe. The police found no reason why he drowned and the accusation of suicide was put forward but with no evidence, the case was closed," I explained. "Coincidence?"

Troy smiled falsely and laughed before cutting off sharply and continuing to glare at me. "You take that back this instant. You think that because your life is shit, you can make mine worse? You bitch. I thought you were different."

I shook my head. "Troy, you know I wouldn't do that. Looking for flaws in other people's lives is the last thing I would do. I have much better things to do with my time. I'm trying to protect you. I don't even know if it's true, okay? But the pieces fit together."

"Don't even say that. It's not possible," he muttered.

I sighed. "Look, Preppy, I may not show it but I care about you. You're the most annoyingly stubborn person I've ever met and I like that. You've pushed me and pushed me more than anybody cared to in the last five years. I just...This morning was second in line of the worst days of my life. I want you to know that even though I don't open up, I'm good at listening."

Troy shook his head. "Ella, just...don't talk to me, okay? Just don't. Stay away from me and my friends and my family. I tried to help and you pushed me away. Kelsi was right all along. You hurt me. Someday, you've got to grow up. Yes, life's not fair, I'll be the first to admit that. But, sometimes, you need to accept somebody's help."

I felt tears prick my eyes and shook my head. "Troy, please don't go. Please. I'll tell you about my mom and why I'm like I am. I'll do anything. Please don't go."

He shook his head. "No. I don't want you to tell just to get me to stay. I want you to tell me because you want to. I just can't believe you'd suggest that my wife committed adultery and then suicide. You didn't know her."

"I know you!" I cried. "Please. I know what it's like to think you know someone and then you realise that what you're seeing isn't real; it's an act. I didn't want you to go through that. Because, if it's true, she can't ask for your forgiveness."

Troy dropped the book onto the floor and I hurried to pick it up, wiping the cover down. "You're insane," he muttered and made his way to the door. "You're insane, crazy and most of all: psychotic. You won't accept anybody's attempt at helping and accuse my wife of things she'd never dream of doing. I'm going to go away, spend time with David and then return to my world, where I belonged before I met you. You need to go and enrol into a college, preferably one that has psychiatry as a mayjor. You could be their subject. Adios, Miss Montez." He pulled the door open, stepped outside, and let the door slam shut behind him. The only sound that proved that anybody else had been present was the bell jingling above the door.

I released a series of embarrassing whimpers as I trudged towards the counter and sat down. I set the book down and turned to the computer, knowing that my theory was the right one. There was no such thing as coincidences. There was always a connection, no matter how small. I waited impatiently for the dinosaur to wake up from its dormancy and then proceeded to wait for the internet to load. Once I saw the welcoming homepage of google, I typed in four simple words: Lexi Bolton Hugh Bowman. The firs result told me all I needed to know. Hugh Bowman drowned a mere week before Lexi died. If there was a connection of anything, it would be that they had had an affair. Hugh Bowman had been known as a player in high school and it had been no surprise that he had died single. But, what if he wasn't single? What if he had feelings for Lexi that ran deeper than friendship and were reciprocated? What if they had figured the only way to be together was to take their lives?

The bell above the door jangled and I turned to see Greg. I managed a tiny smile before turning back to the computer to shut it down. I stared at the counter and sighed. "Hi, Dad." I glanced up and sighed.

"Wow. You're talking to me. I didn't expect that and I know I don't deserve it." He tapped the counter in the moment of silence. "Was that Troy Bolton just leaving?"

I sighed and nodded. "Yeah, it was him. The one and only."

"Are you okay? What happened?" Greg asked.

I inhaled shakily and sighed. "Daddy, I love you. You're the only guy I ever needed. And if Mama can forgive, I can, too. I can't lose you. I can't. I need you." Tears dripped down my cheeks and I shrugged. "I'm sorry for these past years, I haven't been the best daughter and I'm sorry, I can't help it. I just can't stand the thought of Mama leaving us."

Greg rushed around the counter to hug me tightly. "My precious Gabby...You're the best daughter in the world...just because you're _my_ daughter. I know Maria's disease hit you hard and my revelation this morning didn't help, but you don't smoke, you don't drink, you're still a virgin...You are still a virgin, right?"

I pulled back and giggled as I wiped my eyes. "Right. Troy and I met at the ball the other week. And I got thinking. He wanted to give me this bracelet that Lexi supposedly left with a note to give to someone who needed hope. It wasn't the only thing with a note. In my mind, that means that she knew she was going to die. And Hugh Bowman drowned a week earlier. I tried to tell him and he just blew up. Which, I suppose, he has a right to. Oh, god, he wanted to help me. That's all he ever wanted. And I pushed him away."

"Do you know for certain, Gabby?" Greg asked.

"Well..." I trailed off as I looked at the counter.

Greg sighed. "Gabby, you can't go around planting seeds of doubt into people's mind just because the pieces fit together."

I sighed and nodded. "I know. I didn't mean to. I just did what you did. You told me what you did."

"Gabby, I knew that had happened. There wasn't a chance that I was wrong. You need to know the facts before you do that. You might've just lost a possible friend," he warned.

I shrugged. "I know. How's Mama?"

Greg nodded. "She's awake but still in bed. Do you want to swap over?"

I shook my head. "No. I don't. I want to be alone."

Greg sighed. "You have to apologise to him," he said forcefully as he kissed my forehead.

He left the store and, once again, the tears came. What had I done? I hadn't meant to push Troy away...at least not consciously. Maybe I had become scared at how close he was coming and subconsciously decided that I had to drive him away. I don't know. I knew I had to gain his forgiveness before he left to continue his seminars. I can't stand the thought of Troy leaving while he's still mad at me. I just knew I had just hurt the one person who I was close to letting in.


	9. Chapter 8: Troy

**A/N: Hmmmm...I'm working on a co-write with xLeeRamdomx atm! Woohoo. Kinda based off of 'Beastly'! I'm so excited for that. This chapter wasn't as long as I wanted it to be and I'm not terribly pleased with it but oh well**

**Don't own HSM  
**

Chapter 8

_Troy_

_**Apologising is like breathing in that you have to do it to live life honestly without holding back.**_

It seemed strange not to see Gabriella everyday and I did my best to block her from my mind. I embraced it and spent as much time with David as possible. We played chess, although he always won, went to the park and enjoyed the simplicity that Albuquerque's life had to offer. I always saw Jack and Lucille and, although they never questioned me, knew that something had happened. Jack and Lucille still went to work, I still helped with gym and it was finally like we were a normal family. For once, Lexi's name never appeared in a conversation.

Jack and I swapped roles in gym. It took persuasion, charm...and insistent begging until Jack finally agreed. Some days he would take Gabriella outside to play basketball away from the other students, away from me. Other days, they would sit on the bleachers together, simply talking. They wouldn't look away from each other, I sometimes wondered if it was Gabriella's way of avoiding me or if she was simply trying not to cry. The day when she discovered her father's affair was something I wouldn't forget. Even the most frozen, iceberg-like person showed emotion and I saw the signs that she was on the verge of another breakdown whenever she talked to Jack. Jack, as he should, never told me anything.

Kelsi didn't say 'I told you so' and never told me if she had seen Gabriella at school, either. My friends never questioned me about what had happened with Gabriella and me, nor did they question my change in mood. It would annoy some that they appeared they weren't bothered and I was left to deal with my confusion of Gabriella by myself. But, that was the way I liked it. The year I wrote my book was the year I had to figure things out in my mind. It was Lucille's and Jack's idea. Not directly, exactly. When Jack and Lucille first met each other, Jack was serving in the US army and they went months and months with the only contact being through letters. So, they suggested that whatever was going on in my head, I wrote it down. Ever since then, nobody's asked what's going on in my head; they know that when I've figured it out, I'll tell someone.

As I sat down in Starbucks with a cappuccino and the local paper, I realised it had been too long since I'd done this: simply sat down and read by myself. Even though I had been labelled a 'jock' in high school, I couldn't stop reading. It fascinated me how people, authors, could create such masterpieces by simply stringing a few words together. The emotions hidden deep within them could make a dying woman laugh and men of steel cry.

I spread the paper out on the table so that I could see the front page article clearly. It made me want to cry. The headline read: **School Gets Full Marks for Road Safety**. It was an article about a policeman being invited into East Elementary School to teach the students about road safety. That wasn't what upset me. It was the picture in the middle of the page. Nobody else would notice what I did, except maybe Jack and Lucille. They'd notice. Of course they would. The picture showed the policeman holding up a picture of a stop sign while the students were crowding around him from behind. One little boy caught my eye. David. He was near the front but instead of looking at the camera like the other students, he was looking at the floor, just like he always does. In his ten years of existence, he's never once looked me in the eyes. He's looked Lucille in the eyes a couple of times but Jack and I are still waiting. And we will wait. It took him seven years to say his first word and that was 'pizza.' Whilst other children were riding bikes and playing in the park, he would play chess, dismantle and assemble clock radios and build amazing, symmetrical towers from lego bricks. Bottom line?

He's autistic.

He was diagnosed when he was three and, in some ways, it makes me love him more because I know that people will be and have been prejudice towards him. I know that some people don't include him because they don't know how to act around him but I know I haven't been the best brother in the past few years. Now that Gabriella's out of my life I can focus on him and soon, maybe in his summer vacation, I can take him to New York, just like I promised.

"Excuse me?" a voice asked quietly. I lifted my head, breaking out of my thoughts and prayers for my brother. A tanned lady with thinning hair and weak bodily frame stood before me. She was leaning on a cane and it seemed that simply standing there was a struggle. Her appearance had me guessing that she was perhaps in her late fifties or early sixties.

I hurried to my feet and eased her into a chair. "There you go," I murmured as I sat down opposite. "Now, what can I help you with ma'am?"

She rested her cane against wall and folded her hands in her lap. "I can't talk long, my husband just went to the bathroom. Before I begin, I'd just like to say that I admire your work and strength and I'm sorry for your loss."

I smiled, already liking her. "Thank you very much, it's greatly appreciated."

She sighed and looked away. "Troy, I'm Maria." She lifted her head again. "Maria Montez. Before you go assuming that Gabriella sent me to apologise for her, hear me out. Please?"

I reluctantly nodded. "Okay. Continue." I didn't do it consciously and instantly regretted it but there was an icy tone to my voice.

"Gabi doesn't know I'm talking to you. My husband begged me not to, wanting you two to work whatever happened out by yourselves but I know that it won't happen. Not because she doesn't want it to happen, exactly. She does. But..." She sighed. "Troy, my daughter's confidence and life was torn to shreds five years ago. I assume she hasn't told you?"

I shook my head. "No. She hasn't."

Maria nodded. "She never tells anyone, only your father. I'm not going to tell you if she hasn't told you. But, it completely destroyed her and she hid it. She figured that she'd never be hurt again as long as she dresses like she does and talks like she does. So far, it's gone pretty well. Until now. Has she tried to apologise?"

I scratched the back of my neck. "Yeah. In gym yesterday. She actually ventured onto the court."

"Did you listen?" she asked quietly, looking me straight in the eye. "I guess not. Troy, I admire you and I don't know what my daughter did. I think my husband knows but he hasn't told me. I just think you need to talk to her. Don't you see?"

I swallowed and frowned. "See what?"

Maria rolled her eyes. "She's hopelessly in love with you. She is, Troy. Believe me. I'm not sure she knows yet. It'll be hard for her to realise when you're what she's been trying to block out these past years. But she does. She's different now. She actually smiles. And she's been playing the piano again."

I rolled my eyes. "She's not in love with me."

She nodded. "Yes she is. We can go back and forth all day but I don't have time for that. She is in love with you and I think that deep down, you know that, too. You're just in the exact same position she's in. You're terrified of falling in love again." She turned to where the bathrooms are and reached for her cane. She rose shakily to her feet and smiled. "Like I said: I don't know what she did. But, I do know her and I know she wouldn't have hurt you on purpose." She smiled and then hobbled away.

I sighed and leaned back in my chair. Maria didn't seem the manipulative type but what Gabriella had suggested was so...hurtful. What was I doing? Seriously? Had my life honestly shrunk down until I was okay with trying to help other people but not accepting help when it's offered to me? Because, that's exactly what I was doing. I was a hypocrite. Maybe Gabriella had realised and now hated me. I wouldn't blame her. I had walked into her life and the moment she said something I didn't like, I walked right back out without discussing it with her.

* * *

I finished my bottle of beer and waved to the barman to get me another. It sucked feeling like this. Worrying about Gabriella, her feelings for me and how I've possibly plunged her even further into isolation. She'll never trust anyone ever again...because of me. I help millions of people through troubles and the one person I truly care about and come close to having feelings for again is finishing worse off than the way she started.

As the barman placed the bottle in front of me, I squinted at the clock behind him. I knew it was a bit past midnight and I'd been here since half ten. I knew I was drunk, I just wanted to not feel guilty anymore. I wanted her back. I wanted to apologise. Although, I didn't want her to explain her theory, I didn't want to lose her over it because I'm too stubborn.

I could feel my eyelids drooping from tiredness. It had been years since I'd last drunk alcohol and with my decreasing spirits, the alcohol seemed to simply make me even more melancholy. When I was in high school, my invites to various parties meant that I could handle alcohol pretty well. But, then I grew up. Things changed and I didn't have alcohol for months on end. I knew that if I stood up now, I'd most likely fall over.

I needed Gabriella. I wanted her back. I couldn't go back to my 'fabulous' life without her. Since my book was published, I thought my life was pretty good even though I didn't have Lexi. I mean, I've got money and I've solved my parents' debt, David can go to a good college and I get to help people. I _thought_ it was good. It's what Lexi would've wanted, right? But, then Gabriella came along and I realised that...I was lonely. I barely saw my family and I hardly ever spoke to my friends because of my constant travelling to different cities for my seminars. I thought that was the best way to be. You know, keep busy, less thought about Lexi. But, Gabriella made me reconsider.

She was...special. Although she was pushing me away, I know she was on the brink of letting me in. And...I was the one who stopped that happening. I wasn't willing to consider her proposal. Even if it was true, there wasn't anything I could do about it now. I just needed her back. Even though Gabriella hardly ever smiled, never looked like she enjoyed my company, I know she did. I've seen her in school and I can honestly say that the only other person's company she enjoyed was my dad. And her parents' I suppose.

I sighed. Despite Maria's frail and elderly appearance, it was clear that Gabriella took after her. There was something...off about her, though. Although she looked old, she didn't sound it. There was no way she was as old as she looked. But, then, why did she look that way? It made no sense whatsoever. I suppose if I was ever going to find out, I'd have to get Gabriella to trust me again. And she had to trust me before I left again. I wasn't going to just leave her to live like she was before.

"Troy," a voice exclaimed.

I looked up and through my hazed vision, I saw the barman staring at me. "Hmmmm...Wh-What?"

"I said: you need to stop," he said.

I shrugged and held my beer bottle tighter. "No. There is...isn't any p-paparazzi out there. Who cares?"

The barman sighed. "Lord help us."

I felt a surge of courage run through my veins. We were both at fault here but I hadn't listened to her apologies. In a way, that made me worse.

I had to have her in my life. Preferably as more than friends but I honestly don't care. It's just that I can't leave her life when she's even worse off than she was before. It was my fault. That was the hardest part to admit. I had hurt her. Unintentionally, of course, and I'm not even sure if she knows it yet. But I did.

Like they had been all day, Maria's words flashed through my mind. It was hard to believe that Gabriella could love anyone. I don't mean to sound harsh but she locks herself away from the world so much that it was like she was simply a shell. No mind. No personality. No heart. But I don't suppose I'm any different. Although I go in front of thousands of people for my seminars, but I still refused to admit that I could possibly have feelings for Gabriella. I've admitted it now. I want her. I want her in my life, in my heart. I want her safe and I want her to be happy. I want her to come running to me when she's crying and even when she's happy. I want her to let me in all of the way.

I wasn't so drunk that I didn't realise that possible implications of that last thought but that part was true, too. I wanted to be with her forever and make love to her, too. It would take time but that was the whole point of my book. To take time to think things through, let people in, talk to them and let them help. And it had to be reciprocated. Which was why I needed Gabriella's forgiveness. I needed her help just as much as she needed mine.

I waved the barman over again and dug into my pocket for my wallet. I took a couple of bills out, not checking how much it was and handed them to him. I stood up as I stuffed my wallet back into my pocket. I gripped the bar for a moment, waiting for my vision to clear as best it could. I finally stumbled my way between the chairs and I'm pretty sure I walked into someone, making them spill their drinks. But I can't be sure. Not only was I drunk, my mind was on Gabriella.

I looked around me and began staggering in the direction of her house. Although I didn't really want to go to Gabriella's house whilst I was drunk, I needed her. She'd understand, surely. She wouldn't kick me to the curb. Would she? After all, I'd been ignoring her for the past week or however long it had been. Would she let me back into her life at the drop of a hat even if I was sober?

As I made a detour behind a bush to vomit, I realised that I'd finally lost my mind. It had been years since I'd touched alcohol. My travelling for seminars prevented it. But, now I was drunk simply because of a high school girl? Okay, I know Gabriella's a senior but she's still five years younger than me. There was a time, whilst I'd been writing, that the only reason I looked at other girls was because I saw Lexi. But now I only saw Gabriella. A simple, hurt, smart, beautiful young woman.

I wiped my mouth with the sleeve of my jacket and continued my way to Gabriella's house. I slowed down slightly, knowing it was extremely likely that I'd fall over if I went any faster. I finally saw Gabriella's house in the distance and breathed a sigh of relief. As I approached the front yard, I cut through the open gate which led to the back yard. I looked up the tree that led to a balcony. I assumed it was Gabriella's room. I'm not sure why. I hoisted myself awkwardly up the tree and almost fell but tightened my grip on a branch. I mumbled a quick prayer to God, hoping for his help.

I stretched my arm out, griping the railing of her balcony. I bent my leg in a way that made me presume I would pay for it tomorrow and threw myself over the railing, landing in a heap on the floor.


	10. Chapter 9: Gabriella

**A/N: I wasn't totally satisfied but what can you do? I have a new video at youtube!!! Woohoo!**

**Don't own HSM!  
**

Chapter 9

_Gabriella_

_**An apology is the superglue of life. It can repair just about anything.**_

I jolted from my sleep when I heard a clatter by my balcony. I rubbed my eyes and closed the book I'd been reading before I fell asleep. I set it on the bedside cabinet and cautiously got out of bed. I eyed the baseball bat by my balcony doors as I approached them. I slowly reached out and then quickly pushed the drapes to the side. I gasped and hurried to open the doors. I stepped outside into the cold night air and knelt next to Troy who lay in a crumpled heap. "Troy," I whispered worriedly, stroking his forehead.

He opened his eyes and howled with laughter. What was so funny? "I thought I was Preppy," he slurred.

I sighed as I helped him to stand up. "You're drunk," I exclaimed.

I pulled him into my bedroom and let him fall onto my bed. I shut the balcony doors, flicking the lock and rearranging the drapes. I sat at the end of the bed and began untying his laces. "You're pretty," he giggled.

I raised my eyebrows as I set his sneakers neatly on the floor. "That's...sweet but you need some rest." I rose from the bed and moved to go up to where his head was resting on the pillows. "Why'd you drink?"

His smile fell a little bit. "I felt guilty...I think."

I smiled sadly. "It's okay. We'll talk tomorrow, okay?" I leaned down to kiss his forehead as I moved to tuck the blankets around him.

"I think I want you to be my girlfriend," he mumbled as he nestled further into the pillows.

I frowned. "Really?"

He nodded. "Yeah," he whispered.

"I'll answer tomorrow," I said sternly as I walked into my closet and pulled a pair of sweat pants over the pair of shorts I wore as pyjama bottoms. I pulled an overlarge jumper over my torso and then some extra blankets from the top shelf. I climbed into my bed on the opposite side to Troy and wrapped myself in the extra blankets. I didn't want to be too exposed to him when he was drunk.

He rolled over to me and squinted at me. "You really are beautiful," he said honestly and something in his voice told me that it wasn't his drunken voice talking.

I smiled and nodded. "Thank you. Get some sleep." I watched him as he shut his eyes and his breathing evened out to little tiny snores that made him look adorable. When I was satisfied he wouldn't wake up any time soon, I shut my own eyes, welcoming the lures of sleep.

* * *

I was woken up by a sudden movement on the bed and an odd noise. My eyes fluttered opened and I held a hand to my mouth as I yawned. I sat up and stretched, turning to Troy and finding him hunched over the side of my bed. And that was when it hit me. The smell of vomit. _Oh Lord_. I rested a hand on his back and he slowly sat up, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket. "You okay?"

He nodded slowly. "I'm sorry, Ella. I couldn't get to the bathroom."

I smiled and nodded. "It's fine. Go into my bathroom, strip down and have a bath. I don't want you showering. You could pass out on me."

"But, your carpet..." he mumbled in confusion.

"I can get anything out of carpet," I explained. "I'll bring in some of my dad's clothes so that I can freshen those up. They're not too fashionable but is that okay?"

He smiled appreciatively and nodded. "After I just puked on your bedroom carpet, you still offered me that. It'll be fine." He slowly stood up and headed to the bathroom. He turned around at the door. "I meant what I said last night, Ella. Everything." He entered the bathroom and a minute later, I heard water running.

I pushed the blankets away and climbed out of bed, heading downstairs. I saw Maria and Greg at the kitchen table and kissed their cheeks as I moved to the sink to pour a glass of water for Troy. "Good morning," I began.

"Morning mi hija," Maria greeted.

"Um, we have a guest. He dropped in unexpectedly last night," I explained.

"Who?" Greg asked.

I looked out of the kitchen window. "Troy Bolton." I opened the cupboard and brought out some Tylenol pills.

"What?" Greg exclaimed.

I turned to them and sighed. "Nothing happened. He was drunk, actually. He fell asleep almost as soon as he was in my bed. He just wants to talk. That's all."

Greg finally nodded. "Alright."

"Can he borrow some of your clothes, please?" I asked.

Greg gave his permission and I took the water and Tylenol upstairs. I set them on my desk and began bustling around the upstairs closet until I found the cleaning products. I began working at the carpet and after about ten minutes, I saw result. Now, it would just need to dry and then there would be no sign of there being vomit at all. I sat back and wiped my forehead with the back of my hand. I returned all of the products to the closet and brought out a towel and some of Greg's clothes. I picked up the glass and Tylenol and slowly opened the bathroom door, staring at the sink where I wouldn't see anything of Troy. I set the towels and clothes down and sat down by the sink.

I handed him the Tylenol. "Take this," I said softly before giving him the water. He handed it back but I shook my head. "Get hydrated."

"You're not bothered by this?" he asked, gesturing to the bath.

I shook my head. "It's nothing I haven't seen in sex ed." My eyes widened. "Not that I saw anything at all."

He laughed but then groaned. "Please don't make me laugh."

I frowned with concern. I reached for a flannel and run it under the cold tap before placing it on his forehead. "You didn't have to get drunk," I offered.

He sighed. "I know. I know it's my fault, too. I just felt horrible. I never gave you a chance."

I shrugged. "I didn't deserve one. The curse of being smart is that I connect dots and assume they're right without really knowing if it is or not. Does that make sense?"

Troy took the flannel from his head and nodded. "Yeah it does. I don't really want to talk about it, if I'm honest. I don't want to know how you connected those dots. I just...want you."

I held his hand in mine. "I just want you to know you're the closest thing I've had to a friend in five years. That means I've kind of forgotten how to be one. And I don't have a clue how to be a girlfriend at all. I hope you understand that."

He nodded. "I get it. These past years have been a blur. I mean, I spent an entire year locking myself in my apartment and writing the book and then I've been travelling for seminars and book signings and so, you could say I haven't been human. I barely talk to my friends, I don't see my family and I'm a horrible brother. I promised him I'd take him to New York. He's still waiting."

I shifted so that I was sitting cross legged. "He won't think you're a terrible brother. From what you say, he adores you."

Troy shook his head. "He's autistic," he murmured.

I frowned, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. "But, why didn't you tell me? You talk about him all of the time."

He nodded and looked into my eyes. "That's because when I see him, I don't see an autistic child, I see my little brother. And, usually, when people find out he's autistic, they're mean and bitter...prejudice. I didn't want that to stop you from knowing me."

My eyes watered and I shook my head. "I know all about prejudice. Not just because of my voice or my clothes...It hurts, doesn't it? Even when it's directed at someone other than you. It seems even worse when it's about someone you'd die for."

He cracked a smile. "Like it's more painful than a bullet because they live alone."

"Exactly," I whispered. "How's your head?"

He chuckled but it transformed into a groan. "It's okay. It's been better, I guess."

I nodded. "I've seen East High students after a party. It amuses me."

"I'm glad my pain is so funny for you," he joked.

"Self inflicted," I mumbled before leaning over and kissing his forehead. I let my lips linger on his skin before I stood up, drying my wet hand on a towel. "Your towels and my dad's clothes are there," I explained. "Afterwards, we'll have some breakfast and maybe we could go somewhere."

Troy nodded in agreement. "I'd like that."

* * *

I looked over at Troy and giggled at his face. Not only was he still suffering from his hangover, he was now traumatised because of Greg. I knew that sitting at the kitchen table with a hangover and then being interrogated by Greg was the worst start to the day ever. I nudged his shoulder. "I'm sorry," I offered.

He shrugged. "It wasn't your fault. You warned. I just wasn't expecting the gun."

"It doesn't work," I mumbled. "But, if it makes you feel any better, I wasn't expecting it either."

We were sat on one of Albuquerque's hills together, shaded by a large oak tree. Troy was wearing sunglasses so that the sunlight wasn't so bright and would groan every so often with pain. I was reading my book, trying to keep his pain at a minimum. Greg's clothes that he'd borrowed looked...different on him. It assured us both that nobody would guess I was hanging out with Troy Bolton. He was wearing a pair of brown pants with a white shirt and a sweater vest on top. He looked smart and, in a way, I preferred him like this.

"You sure like to read," he commented.

I sighed. "It's the only part of my life I can predict." I glanced at Troy and saw him frown. "What?" I demanded.

"You never cease to amaze me," he mumbled. "That wasn't the reply I was expecting."

"Just like my life, I'm not predictable."

He shifted closer to me. "Were you predicting me to climb onto your balcony?" he asked with honest curiosity.

I shook my head. "After what I said, I'm not sure if I wanted you to." I swallowed and set my book in my lap so that I could look at him. "I'm not saying that I don't want you in my life because I do. Be grateful I admitted that, not many people hear it. All I'm saying is that I don't want to hurt you that way again. I know I don't show you and maybe I should but, I do care about you. And I don't want to cause you pain again."

Troy shrugged. "I hurt you as well, didn't I? I mean, I was a bastard. I never listened to your apologies at all and I really should have."

"I would appreciate it if we just put it behind us. Is that okay?" I asked nervously.

He nodded. "It's fine by me."

I smiled slightly and turned back to my book. "Thank you," I murmured.

"Ella?" Troy asked.

"Hmmmm..." I muttered, keeping my eyes on my book.

"Ella," Troy said a bit more forcefully and tried to pry my book from my hands. I held onto it tighter but Troy was much stronger than me and forced it from my grasp, throwing it somewhere down the hill. I stared ahead, not having the confidence to look at him just yet. He touched my cheek, brushing a stray lock of hair behind my ear. I slowly turned to him and felt my breath hitch as I saw him staring at me with such intensity. He moved his hand to the back of my neck and slowly moved closer. I closed my eyes, revelling in the feeling of his whispers of breath against my lips.

He paused, stroking my cheek with his other hand. My eyes fluttered open, searching for a reason why he hadn't kissed me. "Is it okay?" he murmured.

I smiled at his consideration and nodded. I closed my eyes again and a moment later, Troy's lips touched mine. My first kiss. It was soft and gentle. I hadn't known what to expect in all honesty. The couples at East High were always so rough and movies made kisses out to be something I knew was unattainable. Maybe a lot of people would be unsatisfied. We weren't anywhere particularly romantic, Troy was wearing sunglasses and Greg's clothes and I was dressed like a goth. But maybe that's what made it special for me. I didn't expect Troy to enjoy it like I did. I mean, I'd never kissed anyone before and really had no idea what I was doing. But, he was sweet enough to keep our lips connected, nonetheless. I felt his tongue move across my bottom lip and I yanked myself away from him, releasing an embarrassing whimper.

He held me tighter, rubbing my back as I hid my face in his chest. "It's okay," he whispered and kissed my hair. "I'm stopping. I won't do it."

I pulled back but refused to look him in the eye. "I'm sorry," I muttered. "I'm just not ready."

He nodded and lifted my chin so I had no choice but to look at him. "It's okay. It was my fault. I got caught up."

"You're not mad?" I asked, making sure.

He shrugged. "Should I be?"

"I guess not," I muttered.

He smiled and kissed my forehead. "You don't have to worry about anything. Just be yourself, okay? And there's no conditions. You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to."

I smiled at him and pushed his sunglasses up to look into his eyes. "That means a lot. Thank you."

* * *

We walked slowly back to my house, our hands linked between us. He'd been courteous enough to pick up my book on the way down the hill. He'd taken his sunglasses off, claiming that his head was much better. We paused outside of my house. "Where does this leave us?"

He shrugged. "I know what I told you last night. I wasn't that drunk not to remember." He took both of my hands in his, staring into my eyes. "You know me. I won't force you into anything. Or you should know that. Will you be my girlfriend?"

"We'll take it slowly?" I asked timidly.

He smiled and nodded. "Of course. It's completely Ella-speed. No questions asked." He shrugged bashfully. "I just want to be with you."

After a brief pause, I cracked a smile and nodded. "Okay."

He grinned at me and picked me up, spinning me around. He set me down and cupped my face. "You don't know how happy I am when I'm with you."

I felt myself blush and dug the house key out of my skirt pocket, turning to the front door. I unlocked it and walked into the house. I walked into the kitchen, setting my book on the table. I turned as Troy shut the door and approached me. "You know that I'm not going to just be able to show emotion, don't you? I can't just flick a switch."

He nodded and kissed my forehead. "I know." He suddenly frowned. "Where are your mom and dad?"

"The store, probably. My dad's probably complaining about you and my mom's probably trying and succeeding in complimenting you." I led him into the lounge, picking up some homework on the way. We sat down on the couch, Troy leaning against the arm, and I hesitantly leaned against him.

He stared at me in disbelief, opening the front cover of my AP algebra book. "You take AP algebra? I barely passed regular algebra!"

I smiled up at him. "All of my classes are AP. Except gym."

He chuckled. "I'll start teaching you again. Don't worry."

I smiled up at him. "That would mean a lot to me."

"Will you play the piano for me one day?" he asked quietly.

I looked down at his lap before moving my gaze back to him. "One day," I promised, kissing his cheek.

"What made you learn to play?" he enquired.

"My mom," I answered truthfully. I wasn't willing to further my answer but I was thankful that he seemed to intuit that I wasn't ready for him to know anything else.

We sat in silence together for a while. I continued with my algebra homework and Troy continued to stare at me, stroking my arm and placing soft kisses to my temple at random times. For the first time since we'd met, I didn't feel awkward or reluctant around him. It was the first time since we'd met that I wasn't totally embarrassed to use my monotone. It was still hard to imagine that this was me, in the arms of Troy Bolton. But as he tilted m chin with two fingers and slowly kissed me again, I knew it was true.

I smiled up at him, hoping that, despite how he'd be leaving, I wanted to try at this. I wanted him to stay so that I had someone to talk to. I didn't like to Maria because she didn't need extra worry and I was still a bit weary around Greg since his little announcement. That really only left Jack but I was more than happy to include Troy as long as he didn't change.

Before I told him anything at all, I give it time. Of course I would. I went five years without opening up to anyone. It wasn't going to simply come out even if he was my boyfriend.


End file.
